Bree's Hogwarts Experience
by AnimeFanBree
Summary: A companion piece, of sorts, to 88 rules for a peaceful Hogwarts experince, all about Bree's life at Hogwarts and the origin of some of the rules.
1. Year One: Part One

Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine. The rest is not.

* * *

So here's Bree's story. You'll find some of the rules from "88 rules for a peaceful Hogwarts experience", which has currently reached about 500 rules, mixed in.

* * *

Bree Smith was an eleven year old, blond haired, blue eyed American girl. Her family (Mom, Dad, two dogs and a cat) had just moved to England. Her Dad had gotten a job as a Professor at a University. Bree was absolutely terrified. She was in a new country were she would have to go to a new school and make new friends. A new magical school, and she had only just found out about magic. Her Mother had been, understandably, shocked. Her Father, on the other hand, had just shrugged and said "Well, that explains a few things."

So now Bree was on the train to Hogwarts. As she walked through the cars to find a place to sit, she ran into a blond boy who was accompanied by two larger boys. All three of them together blocked the walkway.

"Could you move over to one side please? I need to get by." Bree asked nicely.

The blond boy sneered at her. "How dare you order me around! Do you have any idea who I am!" he exclaimed.

Bree looked at him as if he was insane. "First, it wasn't an order, it was a question, and second, no, I have no idea who you are, I have never seen you before in my life."

"I'm Draco Malfoy." the boy said pompously.

Bree stared at him, while the boy smirked, thinking that she now knew how important he was compared to her. "…And is that supposed to mean something?" Bree finally asked.

Draco face changed for smug, to surprised, then to outraged. "My Father is Lucious Malfoy. The Malfoy family is the richest family in Britain." he yelled, gaining the attention of three boys in a nearby compartment.

Bree rolled her eyes. "So, basically, you're a spoiled rich brat that lives off his parents money and prestige, that you yourself have done nothing to earn the right to use." she summarized. The boys from the nearby compartment began to snicker. Draco pulled out his wand. "I ought to hex you, you…" "Slap!" Draco was interrupted when Bree slapped him across the face.

* * *

Rule 150. Not allowed to slap Draco.

* * *

Draco was momentarily stunned by the hit. The boy's behind him pulled out their wands. The boys that had been laughing at Draco had now exited their compartment and pulled out their wands. The large, but obviously not intelligent, boy's behind Draco couldn't decide where to aim their wands. Draco finally recovered from his shock. He was about to start yelling again when he spotted the three, older, larger, Gryffindor boys that had their wands pointed at him in apparent defense of the girl that had slapped him.

"Run along Malfoy. Leave the girl alone." one of the boys, a redhead, warned.

Draco gulped, and he and his cronies backed off, and made their way to another car. Bree turned to the three boys. Two were identical red heads, the other was well, she wanted to say African American, but she wasn't in America, so… African British? Arrgh… damn you political correctness, making things more complicated then they need to be. He was of African decent. Black if you will. With dreadlocks.

"Thanks." she said simply.

"No problem. Anyone who slaps a Malfoy has my support." one of the red heads stated.

Bree shrugged "Someone had to do it." she explained.

* * *

- no, no one had to do it.

* * *

The red heads grinned. "Well I believe, that this" began one. "Is the beginning of" continued the other. "A beautiful friendship." they finished simultaneously. Bree blinked at the oddness of it.

"Well, if we're going to be friends," she began slowly, and slightly unsure, "then we'll need to know each others names." she concluded confidently. "I'm Bree Smith." she introduced.

"I'm Fred Weasely." one of the red heads responded. "And I'm his better looking twin George." stated the other. "And this," the twins said together as they gestured toward the boy with dread locks, "is our friend Lee Jordan."

Bree spent the rest of the train ride with the Weasely twins and Lee Jordan.

* * *

Hours later, Bree was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, along with the rest of the first years that had their names at the end of Professor McGonagall's list. Bree had seen most of the other new students be sorted. Finally, the moment she had been waiting for came.

"Smith, Bree!" McGonagall called out. Bree walked up to the stool, sat down, and wondered which house she would end up in as the brim of the hat slipped over her eyes.

"_My, my. It's been awhile since I've sorted an American, now where to place you." _said a voice that Bree assumed was the hat. _"You are rather intelligent, but lack the drive for knowledge that Ravenclaw's have. Loyal to your friends, but you're too brash for Hufflepuff. You have a fair amount of cunning, but I fear the amount of chaos you would cause should you end up in Slytherin."_

"_Hey!" _the blond mentally protested.

"_Your personality would clash too much with the other Slytherins. And the Slytherin dorms are in the dungeon, I just wouldn't feel safe with you so close to the school's foundation. It wouldn't due to have the school demolished in a week. So I guess I'll have to put you with all the others who act before thinking in _GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted the last word for the whole school to hear. Bree went and sat next to the Weasely twins while the sorting finished.

A few minutes later Weasely, Ronald, was called up. Bree leaned over to the twins and whispered "Is he one of your brothers?"

"Yeah that's ickle Ronnikins." Fred whispered back.

"What house do you think he'll end up in?" Bree inquired.

"He better get into Gryffindor or our family will disown him." George answered.

"We will not!" another red head hissed at him. "All Houses are equal." he stated.

Fred leaned over and whispered into Bree's ear. "Percy's only saying that because he's a prefect."

Fortunately no one ever found out if Ron's family would disown him, as he was sorted in to Gryffindor. And, after Zabini, Blaise, was put into Slytherin, the sorting ended, and Dumbledore stood up.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. "He's insane, isn't he?" Bree asked in shock. "Insane?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a little insane, yes. Potatoes?" he offered the blond some of the food that had suddenly appeared while she'd been distracted.

A little while later, after everyone had finished with dinner and dessert, Dumbledore stood up made a few announcements, gave a few warnings that seemed to be directed at the Weasely twins, except one that was rather disturbing, it warned against going the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side, unless you wanted to die a painful death. He then had the school sing the school song, letting each student pick their own tune, which made the whole affair sound very chaotic and made it hard for Bree to sing to her chosen tune, so she decided to go along with Fred and George and their funeral march. Once the song was over, Dumbledore sent the students to bed.

* * *

Over the few days Bree got lost a lot. The school was full of moving staircases, fake doors, and hidden passages. It reminded Bree quite a bit of the Winchester Mystery House, except that she had yet to open a door that led to a straight drop. So Bree, having missed breakfast twice due to getting lost, decided that she needed a way to make the school easier to navigate. She decided on road signs. During some free time, after the last class and before dinner, she went to work placing hand made street signs in the hall.

* * *

Rule 252. Not allowed to put street signs in the halls to make the school easier to navigate.

* * *

When she was hanging her tenth sign, she was startled by someone coming up behind her. "And what do you think you're doing?" a pompous voice asked. Bree turned around and came face to face with Percy Weasely. "Making the school easier to navigate." she explained. "Well we'll just see what Professor McGonagall has to say about that. Come along." he motioned for her to follow him. Bree sighed and followed the prefect to McGonagall office, where she was instructed to take down her signs.

* * *

The next day she spent a few hours in the hospital wing after suffering from an all over itch and getting in to an argument with the house elves in charge of the laundry. (She found the laundry by asking the Weasely twins.) The elves has been upset that she had criticized the laundry soap they were using, until Professor McGonagall had forced Bree to go to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey confirmed that Bree was indeed allergic to the detergent, then they felt very guilty for unintentionally causing the discomfort of one of the students. Soon after, Bree resolved to never go to the hospital wing again, as she was subjected to an hour long lecture on what kind of soaps and fabrics that she would have to avoid due to her sensitive skin.

* * *

(For more information on the above incident see chapter four of "88 rules")

* * *

It now was Friday, which meant that the Gryffindor first years would be having their first double potions class with the Slytherins. The class was held in one of the cold, damp dungeons beneath the school. Professor Snape started the class with role call, then when on to some speech that was obviously meant to either terrify or impress them all. Then Snape directed his attention toward Harry Potter.

"Potter!" he snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"_Is that even in this years text?" _Bree thought to herself.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape sneered. "Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything" he commented, completely ignoring Hermione who was eagerly raising her hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Hermione raised her hand even higher as soon as the question was asked. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all laughed at Harry's misfortune.

Bree frowned. _"Oh, like dumb, dumber, and dumbest even know the answer themselves." _she thought angrily.

"I don't know, sir." Harry said again.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" sneered Snape.

"_He shouldn't have had to. It's the teacher's responsibility to educated the student, not to humiliate them." _Bree internally raged.

Snape went on to a new question. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione was standing now.

Bree frowned even more. _"Aren't those the same thing?" _she thought, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to punch Snape in the face.

"I don't know," Harry answered quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

"_Because you didn't tell us to?" _Bree thought sarcastically, but she reach for pen and parchment anyway.

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Snape stated as the class hurried to get out quills and parchment.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He stalked around the classroom, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like, and Bree, who was making very few mistakes due to the experience she had cooking. Granted, granted cooking didn't have to be as precise as potions, the meal wouldn't explode if you put the onions in before the carrots, or if you added a bit two much curry power to the dish, but she got by well enough.

Snapewas just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools, except Bree, who simply lifted her feet and watched the potion ooze by, while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You — Potter — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills?"

"Probably because he was working on his own potion. You might as well yell at the whole class for not telling Neville to not add the quills. Or better yet, why don't you yell at yourself? You are supposed to be the "Responsible Adult" here, right?" Bree interjected before anything else could be said. Snape turned to her, looking enraged. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your backtalk, Smith." he snarled at her. Bree didn't looked the least bit fazed.

* * *

An hour later Bree was walking up the stairs that led out of the dungeon, when someone called her name. "Bree! Wait up!" Bree turned and found Ron and Harry coming up behind her. "Bree, um, thanks, you know, for standing up for me back there." Harry said a bit awkwardly. "Weren't you afraid of him?" Ron asked. Bree snorted. "Of course not. In fact, I hope to make him even angrier." the blond declared. "Why would you want to do that!" Ron exclaimed. "Because if I get him to yell at me enough, I can claim that I've been emotionally damaged." Bree explained, as if she was talking to a small child. "And why do you want to be emotionally damaged?" Harry asked in confusion. Bree rolled her eyes. "I'm an American, Harry. When someone pisses us off we don't get mad, we manufacture a problem and sue for every penny!" she exclaimed. Harry and Ron stared at her in shock as she walked away.

* * *

First chapter and I've already got the "Americans sue everyone" joke in there. So what do you think? Have I done the rules justice? Review please!


	2. Year One: Part Two

Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine. The rest is not.

* * *

There was an air of excitement among the first years, flying lessons were to begin on Thursday. The wizard-born students told stories about growing up flying. Especially Malfoy, who told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. At least, he did before Bree asked him to describe a helicopter. After he was through giving his description, Bree stared at him and said "You just described a passenger jet." He shut up after that.

Thursday morning at breakfast Neville was sent a Remembrall, a device that Bree decided was utterly useless as it let you know you'd forgotten something, but didn't tell you what you'd forgot. Malfoy's attempt to start a fight by stealing the Remembrall, was quickly derailed by McGonagall.

At three-thirty that afternoon the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years were gathered outside for their first flying lesson. Bree eyed the brooms that were lined up on the ground warily. She had heard the Weasely twins complain about them, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch, once everyone was next to a broom, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, Bree's had jumped six inches into the air, before falling back to the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle — three — two —" But Neville, frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips. "Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville kept rising up and up until- Wham!- he fell of the broom and landed with a sickening crack.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy — it's all right, up you get." She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him. No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" Bree immediately put him on her mental hit list.

"Look!" he exclaimed, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up. "Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about… up a tree?" "Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!" Harry grabbed his broom. "No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move, you'll get us all into trouble."

Harry ignored her and took of after Draco. Harry chased after Draco until Draco threw the Remembrall. Harry dived after it. He caught it about a foot off the ground.

A sudden shout rang through the air. "HARRY POTTER!" Professor McGonagall was running toward them. "_Never_, in all my time at Hogwarts " Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "how _dare _you, might have broken your neck."

"It wasn't his fault, Professor —"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil"

"But Malfoy —"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now." Harry followed McGonagall into the school. Bree turned to Ron. "What kind of flowers should we get him for his funeral?" she asked innocently.

* * *

At dinner Bree saw Malfoy and his goons saunter up to Harry and begin taunting him. Bree heard the talk about a Wizard's Duel, whatever that was, and then Malfoys and the goons began to leave. The blond girl began flicking peas at Goyle's head as the trio passed by. He didn't notice until she had tossed a whole handful at him. He retaliated by chucking a bowl of mashed potatoes at her. She ducked, and it hit one of the Weasely twins instead. Suddenly it devolved into all out madness and by the end of the affair there wasn't a student who wasn't covered in food. The teachers didn't figure out who had started it until the next day.

* * *

Rule 205. Not allowed to start a food fight.

* * *

The next day was Friday, which meant potions with the Slytherins. Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione appeared to be quite tired, and Draco was being more annoying than usual, so Bree had taken to flicking newts eyes at the back of his head when Snape wasn't looking. Eventually, one of the newts eyes missed and hit Crabbe instead. He responded by sending a frog liver her way, but it missed and hit Ron. Ron's temper got the best of him and he began flinging his potions ingredients at Crabbe.

* * *

- especially not during Potions class

* * *

Bree ducked under the table as potion ingredients began flying between the Gryffindor and Slytherin students. The chaos only lasted for a minute because Snape noticed, and some of the ingredients landed in a few cauldrons, which caused them to begin releasing noxious fumes that forced the class to evacuate.

* * *

A week later, at breakfast, the morning mail had come. This wasn't unusual, but the six large screech owls that were carrying a large package were. They dropped their burden in front of Harry, who read the attached letter and quickly left the hall with Ron and the package. The students spent the rest of the day guessing what was in the package, except for Malfoy, who insisted that it was a broom.

* * *

At potions that week, the whole class was silently chopping potions ingredients. Suddenly, a shout of "Die you bastards! Die!" came from Bree, who was enthusiastically chopping her ingredients. This of course startled everyone in the room.

* * *

203. Not allowed to exclaim "Die you bastards! Die!" when chopping potions ingredients.

* * *

Snape deducted ten house points for the outburst, and assigned Bree fifty lines. Silence returned to the classroom. At least until Bree decided she no longer wanted to be in class. Then the class was treated to the sound of Bree screaming while waving her flaming sleeve around.

* * *

158. Not allowed to set my robes on fire to get out of potions.

* * *

Snape quickly put Bree out, than sent her to the hospital wing for minor burns on her wrist, never realizing that Bree had intentionally set her robes on fire. At least not until the next class when he caught her doing it again.

* * *

Another week another first years potions class. Snape never like teaching first years but this year the Slytherin/Gryffindor class was the one he despised most of all. No longer was this fact because of Harry Potter, the son of the arrogant James Potter. Now it was because of muggleborn student, Bree Smith. The American seemed to have made it her life's mission to set one thing on fire each class. The first two times this had happened she had set herself on fire in order to leave class early. The third time she had set her partner, Pansy Parkinson, on fire.

* * *

- nor am I allowed to set my partners robes on fire to get out of potions.

* * *

Admittedly it probably hadn't been a good idea to put Parkinson and Smith together, but he had been hoping that the Slytherin would be able to keep the pyromaniac from setting anything ablaze. He hadn't been expecting Bree to set Pansy on fire.

The fourth time Smith had set her textbook on fire.

* * *

- or my textbook.

* * *

She had been hopeful that without her textbook, she wouldn't be able to participate in the class. She put the book out herself when she realized how upset her Mother would be at her for burning it. Apparently, while Bree didn't care at all about angering the potions Professor, just the thought of angering her own Mother terrified her. Snape briefing wondered if he was losing his touch.

* * *

On Halloween nothing of particular interest happened, aside from learning the hover charm, until the Halloween feast that evening. The Great Hall was decorated festively, students were happily chattering away, and then Professor Quirrell came running in. "Troll! Troll in the dungeons! I thought you ought to know." he exclaimed before fainting on the floor. Most of the hall began to panic, except for the Gryffindors who were staring at Bree after she had exclaimed "Woo Hoo! We're all going to die!"

* * *

Rules 306. "Woo Hoo! We're all going to die!" is not the proper response for any emergency situation.

* * *

Dumbledore got the students the calm down, then ordered the prefects to lead their houses back to their dorms. Percy took to his role immediately. Outside of the Gryffindor common room, Bree noticed something.

"Percy, Harry and Ron were with us when we left the hall, but now they're gone." she told the prefect.

"What!" Percy exclaimed. A quick and frantic search revealed that, not only were Ron and Harry gone, Hermione was gone as well. Percy immediately went to go find them. The twins attempted to follow.

"You two stay here." Percy commanded.

"No way." George protested.

"Ron is our brother too." stated Fred.

"I already have one brother missing. I don't want to have to worry about you two as well. Stay here where it's safe!" Percy snapped, stunning the twins in to silence as he slammed the portrait hole shut, then told the fat lady not to open up for anyone in the common room until it was safe.

* * *

Later on, while the students in Gryffindor tower were finishing the feast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the common room being escorted by Percy, who was fussing over Ron. The twins went over to demand an explanation, and to poke fun at Percy who they said was getting to be more protective then their Mum, but they were really quite pleased with this new side of their brother.

* * *

And that's it for this chapter. Snape is bound to have more problems dealing with Bree, and, if we're lucking, maybe Percy won't pick a job over his family later on.

Review Please!


	3. Year One: Part Three

Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine. The rest is not.

* * *

It was November. Everyone in the school was excited because the Quidditch season had begun. The night before Gryffindor's first game of the season Bree was sitting in the common room reading, when Harry came in and immediately went over to talk to Ron and Hermione. Bree didn't pay attention until she heard the words "three headed dog."

"What three headed dog?" she asked the trio.

"Er… the one on the third floor." said Ron.

"Why is it in the school?" Bree asked in an exasperated tone.

"We think it's guarding something." explained Hermione.

"So what you're saying is, there is something in the school that is worthy of being protected by Cerberus, in a school full of children?" Bree deadpanned.

The trio nodded.

The blond sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in order to stave off the oncoming headache. "Well Dumbledore's name does have the word dumb in it, so there's gotta be an explanation in there somewhere." she said before going up to her dorm, leaving the Harry, Ron, and Hermione to return to their previous conversation.

* * *

117. I am not to point out that Dumbledore's name has the word dumb in it.

* * *

The next day at the Quidditch pitch, Bree was sitting near Lee Jordan. He was the commentator for the match so she figured he would have the best view of the game. Bree found his commentary to be rather amusing.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor — what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too…"

Unfortunately Professor McGonagall didn't agree with Bree's opinion.

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve — back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes — Flint flying like an eagle up there — he's going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle — that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger — Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses — GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Cheers rang out from the Gryffindor students. Boos and moans came from the Slytherins.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the — wait a moment — was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry and the Slytherin seeker went diving for the snitch. Harry had sped forward and was about to catch it when - WHAM- Marcus Flint blocked Harry, sending the small Gryffindor spinning.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So … after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul…"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

As the game continued to play out Bree kept her eyes fixed on Harry, something was going wrong with his broom. It reminded her and bit of the bull riding she had seen once at a rodeo. After she decided that broom probably shouldn't be doing that, she began to tap Lee on the shoulder. She was ignored, and since no one else seemed to have noticed the trouble Harry was having, Bree grabbed the magically charmed megaphone from him and shouted, "Hey Gryffindor, somethings wrong with your seekers broom! You should probably do something before you have to replace him!" This caused everyone to look up at Harry and see that, yes, there was definitely something wrong with the seekers broom.

The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

After a few minutes, the broom stopped shaking and Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick, he hit the field on all fours, coughed, and something gold fell into his hand.

I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. "He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results — Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

The Gryffindor students spent the evening partying in celebration. The Slytherin students spent the evening moping and complaining about how unfair it all was.

* * *

McGonagall was at her wits end. As if the Weasley twins weren't bad enough, now there was Bree Smith to deal with. She had told the girl to stop setting things of fire in potions in order to get out of class early. The American had responded by setting things on fire in potions for fun.

* * *

Rule 160. Not allowed to set things on fire in potions class "just for the hell of it."

* * *

Once she was forbidden from doing that, Bree proceeded to set one of the plants in the greenhouse on fire. When questioned, she claimed she trying to talk to God.

* * *

Rule 283. I cannot "talk to God through a burning bush like Moses" so I should stop setting the plants in the greenhouse on fire.

* * *

The next day Hagrid caught her setting a shrub at the edge of the forbidden forest on fire.

* * *

- no this does not mean I can set the vegetation in the forbidden forest on fire.

* * *

And then the next week, when Dumbledore had told Bree that he couldn't have Maryland Style Crab Cakes served at dinner, she had gone on a hunger strike. No one had taken the threat seriously until Bree passed out in the middle of Charms class.

* * *

Rule 115. Not allowed to go on a hunger strike until Maryland Style Crab Cakes are served at dinner.

* * *

After that the house elves took matters into their own hands and obtained some blue crab with which they made a plate of crab cakes that Bree jealously guarded at dinner.

* * *

Severus Snape wasn't a religious man, but he thanked God that Bree Smith hadn't stayed over the Holiday. The girl was a nuisance, purposely causing trouble in his class and in the rest of the school, but at least he wouldn't have to deal with her antics until she and the rest of the students got back, and then the owl came. Snape took one look at the letter, then ripped it up, set the pieces on fire, then stalked out of the hall.

* * *

Rule 394. I am not give Snape the contact information of Doctors I think can "help" him.

* * *

Well that's all for now. Review please!


	4. Year One: Part Four

**Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine. The rest is not.**

**Many thanks to my reviewers. There wouldn't be updates without you.**

* * *

In the weeks after Christmas Bree found Hogwarts to be rather…boring. The major holidays had passed and the next Gryffindor Quidditch game wouldn't be for awhile. Naturally, Bree decided to liven things up.

* * *

Dean was on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He had just finished a Saturday detention with Snape and was looking forward to playing some Exploding Snap before dinner. He turned a corner and found a very strange scene taking place in front of the entrance.

The hallway was covered in rose petals. There was a round table with candles on in in front of the fat lady's portrait. On the side of the table closest to the fat lady there was a painting that depicted a steak. On the other side of the table sat a toad. In front of the toad sat a plate of bugs.

Dean stared at the scene for a moment. Turned around, and went to dinner early.

* * *

15. The Fat Lady is not Miss Piggy, Neville's toad, Trevor, is not Kermit the frog and it is wrong to try to set the two up on a date.

* * *

Bree was sitting in common room. Nearby Ron, Hermione, and Harry were pouring over books they had gotten from the library. The room was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the occasional turning of pages. It was relaxing, peaceful, boring.

Bree noticed a small spider crawling across the floor. It went over to where the trio was sitting and proceeded to crawl up Ron's leg. It reminded Bree of and old nursery rhyme. How did it go? Oh, right. "The itsy bitsy spider crawled up Ron Weasely's robes…" Bree sang. This caught the trio's attention. It took a moment for the words to sink in, and for Ron to feel the spider's legs tickling his skin. Ron began to scream.

* * *

494. Not allowed to sing "The itsy bitsy spider crawled up Ron Weasely's robes…"

* * *

Bree had detention with Snape. Her detention was the result of singing in the hallway. Apparently she hadn't learned anything because Snape could still hear her singing "Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na BATMAN!" under her breath, even as she was cleaning out caldrons.

* * *

491. Not allowed to sing the Batman theme song when Snape walks by.

* * *

Bree was in the common room, reading, when Neville toppled in. How he got that far was a mystery because he was suffering the affects of a leg locker curse. Hermione went to perform the counter curse and Bree left the room while muttering "My Draco needs his butt kicked senses are tingling.

* * *

464. I do not have "Draco needs his butt kicked" senses.

* * *

Bree found Draco walking down a hall, alone. She quickly hit him with a stunning spell. Once the boy was on the ground she dragged his unconscious form to a nearby closet.

Draco came around about an hour later. He woke to the sound of laughter. When he opened his eyes he saw various people snickering at him as they passed by. Draco was confused. Then he felt a draft. He looked down. He was wearing a frilly pink dress. He quickly ran back to the Slytherin dorm.

* * *

298. Not allowed to knock Draco out and put him in a dress.

* * *

At the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch game the Gryffindor's were disgruntled because Snape was refereeing the game. Bree was taking advantage of the anti-Slytherin sentiment in the stands. She walked up and down the stands, carrying a box and calling "Pictures here! Get your pictures of Malfoy in a dress! Own your very own photo of the Slytherin cross dresser!" So far she had earned a small profit. Five minutes in and the game was over, Harry had caught the snitch. Bree sold the pictures she hadn't managed to sell during the game, during the party in the Gryffindor common room, which Ron, Harry and Hermione were mysteriously absent from.

* * *

Around the Easter holidays the teachers started assigning extra homework in order to prepare students for the exams. Because of this Bree was too busy to cause any mischief around the school. Well she did find one thing to do.

Professor McGonagall sighed as she looked over Bree's transfiguration essay.

"I'm really starting to worry about that girl." she muttered, before going to tell Bree that "Bree, your Future Overlord." Was not the proper way to sign her homework.

* * *

249. Not allowed to turn in assignments signed "Bree, your Future Overlord."

* * *

Even though she was focused on the exams, Bree still noticed that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sending a lot of time at Hagrid's hut. One day she decided to follow them. As she peeked into a window she saw… was that? It couldn't be! It was! A baby dragon. Harry spotted her through the window and came to the door. "Bree!" he exclaimed. "Did you see it? Um, I mean" "Yes I saw the baby dragon. Now I want a better look." the blond interjected before Harry could form a proper sentence.

Bree entered the hut. Harry followed close behind her. Hagrid looked a bit nervous when he saw Bree, but it quickly dissolved into a kind of parental pride when Bree began fawning over the baby dragon. Bree squealed in delight when the dragon breathed a little bit of flame.

"Hagrid…" Hermione began "too many people are finding out about Norbert. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

"I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie." he said.

"But Harry, he's Ron." Bree stated in confusion.

"No, Charlie, his brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

* * *

Bree was totaling neglecting her studies. Instead she was spending every available moment with Hagrid and Norbert. Hargrid told her everything he knew about caring for dragons. She was rather disappointed when she found out that Norbert would be sent away on the upcoming Saturday.

"Mad you are." Ron muttered to her. "What is there to like about a dragon?"

Bree grinned at him. "What his there not to like? It's a fire breathing reptile! Two of my favorite things rolled into one!" she explained excitedly, before going to Hagrid's hut to visit Norbert.

Ron turned to Harry. "Completely nutters, that one." he said.

* * *

**Now for a song.**

**The itsy bitsy spider crawled up Ron Weasely's robes, then came the screams as he shook the spider out. Down came the book that squished the spider up. And the itsy bitsy spider never crawled up the robes again.**

**Review please!**


	5. Year One: Part Five

Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine. The rest is not.

* * *

Many thanks to my reviewers. There wouldn't be updates without you.

* * *

During the last weeks of school Bree was not able to cause a sufficient amount of chaos in the school. Between the exams and the heat she just didn't have the energy. But she did try.

* * *

Hermione was sitting in the common room studying, when Bree walked in carrying a tape measure. Bree walked over to Hermione and wrapped to trap measure around her head.

"What are you doing?" the busy haired girl growled.

"Measuring your head to make sure it won't explode from information overload." the blond replied, then removed the tape and wrote something down in a notebook.

* * *

415. Not allowed to periodically measure Hermione's head to make sure it won't explode from information overload.

* * *

"Right, well I'm off to check on the Ravenclaws." Bree said as she made her way out of the common room.

Hermione sat for a moment, then went to get Professor McGonagall.

* * *

- nor am I to do this to any Ravenclaw student.

* * *

Finally, the very last week of school came about and Bree no longer had to worry about exams. She wandered down to the lake where she found Lee and the twins were tickling the giant squid. She ignored them and hoped into the lake, robes and all. Once her clothes were soaked she marched her soggy self over to the grass, laid down, and took a nap, ignoring the odd looks she got from Fred, George, and Lee.

Bree woke up a while later. Sort of. In her half asleep state she heard the twins and Lee talking. Something about dragons, women , and the twins older brother. Bree drifted back to sleep.

* * *

That night Bree couldn't sleep. This was probably because of the nap she took by the lake. Because of this was able to hear Hermione get up.

"Where are you off to?" she whispered when Hermione was by the door.

Hermione turned around, startled. "Um Bree I was just" "Shh!" Bree interrupted Hermione. "Do you want to wake up the others?" she scolded. Bree frowned in thought for a moment, then grinned. "Go on, off with you. We'll negotiate the price of my silence later." she whispered. Hermione nodded and left. Bree rolled over and tried to sleep.

* * *

The next day Bree heard that Harry and Ron were in the hospital wing. Harry was unconscious and Ron had a head injury. Quickly word spread throughout the school of what had happened. Apparently the Philosopher's stone had been hidden on the third floor. Quirrel, who had been possessed by the ghost of Voldemort, had tried to steal it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stopped him. Bree didn't like this fact one bit. What was Dumbledore thinking, having such a potential danger put in the school? Her concerns were ignored in favor of a Gryffindor "Our Firstes are Heroes" party.

The next day Ron was released from the hospital wing. Most of the students kept asking him to tell them about what happened. Except for the Slytherins, but they did listen intently.

The Weasley Twins tried to get Bree to help them send Harry a toilet seat. Bree declined, pointing out that they weren't allowed it the same restroom. She then went to the kitchens.

* * *

Bree had just finished explaining Dumbledore's endangerment of the school to the house elves, and now the elves were talking amongst themselves. Finally, one of the house elves, a female named Natty who was apparently their chosen spokesperson, spokeself? Anyway Natty stepped forward and began talking to Bree.

"We thinks that Master Dumbly has been very, very naughty." she stated. The house elves behind her nodded in agreement. "We thinks naughty Dumbly needs to be punished. But we doesn't know what to do. Does slightly crazy and most vindictive Miss Bree have ideas?" she asked.

Bree grinned and pulled a couple three bottles out of her pocket. "Just put some of this into Dumbledore's food, and on the night of the feast add a whole bottle to his food." she instructed as she handed Natty the bottles.

"Potions, Miss Bree?" Natty asked.

Bree shook her head. "Hot sauce."

* * *

Over the next two days Dumbledore looked increasingly flushed. Finally it was time for the feast.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully to the assembled students. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes… First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley…"

Ron went purple in the face; Bree thought that this clashed with his hair.

"… for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Bree snorted in distain. So what? It was played just like regular chess, just with more lethal potential.

At last there was silence again.

"Second, to Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms. She appeared to be crying.

Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred points up.

"Third, to Mr. Harry Potter," said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. " for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

Gryffindor house broke out into loud cheers again. They were tied with Slytherin.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The loudest cheers of all broke out.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile.

Finally the food was presented. Bree watched Dumbledore out of the corner of her eye and smiled as he took his first bite of food. His face soon turned red and he began to guzzle his pumpkin juice. Bree smiled and began to eat her own meal. Halfway through she paused, something had been nagging at the back of her mind. She turned to Percy.

"Is it true that your older brother likes dragons more than women?" she asked. Percy choked on his pumpkin juice. The twins were nearby and had answered before Percy could.

"Yeah but,"

"Bill has always at bit odd."

"Lies!" Percy shouted. "Don't listen too them." he said to Bree.

"It's true Perce."

"In his last letter Bill said"

"that he's found a nice she dragon and she's"

"one hell of a"

Bree didn't hear what the dragon was because Percy had covered her ears and began shouting "Lies! Lies! Don't listen to them!"

* * *

488. Not allowed to ask any Weasely "Is it true that your older brother likes dragons more than women?"

* * *

The next day the students left Hogwarts. The train ride was uneventful. When they arrived at the platform Bree got a look at Harry's family. She didn't like them. Them uncle and cousin were far to overweight for their age and height, and Harry was so thin! The aunt was thin as well, but that seemed to be from her attempts at feminine perfection. But she had passed that point and know looked anorexic. Having a mother who works in a hospital and talks to you about these things made her able to identify when something was off. Harry departed with is family, and Bree soon saw the Weasley children with who she assumed was their mother and younger sister.

Bree approached them and heard Percy say "The twins have been corrupting the innocent."

"He's not talking about me is he?" she asked Fred, at least she thought it was Fred. She was getting a bit better at telling them apart, but it was still hard.

Fred laughed. "Mum this is Bree. She's from America." he introduced.

"Hello Ma'am nice to meet you." Bree stated.

"Oh, such a polite girl." Mrs. Weasley cooed.

"Bree." a male voice called. Bree turned and saw a very tall man, over six feet. He had dark hair and a mustache. "Hello Dad." Bree greeted. "These are the Weasley's. Ron is in my year, the twins, Fred and George, are a little older than him, and Percy is older than them. Ginny will be coming to school next year, and this is their Mother, Mrs. Weasley." She gestured at each Weasley as she introduced them.

"Beautiful family you have ma'am." Mr. Smith said.

"Yes. Thank you." Mrs. Weasley choked out, a bit shocked by the man's height.

"Time to go Bree." He said to his daughter. Bree nodded. "Goodbye." she said to the Weasleys. "Bye Bree." said Fred. "Make sure to write." said George. Bree nodded and left the station with her father.

* * *

And so ends year one. Subsequent years will be longer, but that's just the way the books work. Might include a chapter about Bree's summer.

Also, Bree's Dad is based, loosely, on my own who is that tall. My mother is also quite tall. Because of this I always feel short and am secretly pleased when I find someone shorter than me. This fact may also come up with Bree.

This update took awhile because I watched a show about earthquakes and then got inspired to write and AU of what I have planned for Bree's seventh year. It's not much of a comedy more of a survivors drama. Here's a little preview, aka, random senquential paragraph time.

* * *

It was the summer before her Seventh Year. Bree was on vacation. She was visiting family in California. Well more accurately she was standing outside the airport, waiting to be picked up. Bree was under the skywalk in order to protect herself from the hot sun, even so she was just happy to be away from the current turmoil in wizarding England. And then the shaking started. Growing up in California Bree had experienced a lot of small tremors, they didn't last long, and never caused much damaged.

This was nothing like those. This was a devastating 8.0 mega quake. Bree was thrown onto her hand and knees. The ground moved as if it were fluid. People started screaming. The building began to crumble and the skywalk began to collapse on her. Bree couldn't run, the shaking was so bad. So she did the only thing she could in order to protect herself. She pulled out her wand and cast Protego.

Hermione was the first to hear of the disaster. Television is great that way, telling you the news almost as it is happening. There were images of a collapsed Hollywood sign, of a destroyed Golden Gate Bridge.

Bree was walking. This simple act was hindered by the broken roads, rubble from collapsed building, and the fires that now burned unchecked all around. But still she kept walking in the hot sun down a broken highway. She was headed east, out of the God forsaken state.

Bree suddenly came to a sudden stop. Before her was one of San Diego's many highway overpasses. It had collapsed, crushing the cars beneath it and causing the ones on it to come crashing to the ground. She was about to start climbing over it when she heard a noise. She thought she was imagining things when she heard it again. Someone was crying.

She looked around and quickly found the source of the noise. There was a spot where a large piece of the overpass was sitting at an angle. This was because one end was kept elevated by the rubble of a support post. Due to this there was a gap between the overpass and the ground where a partially crushed car was. In the car there was a woman trapped in the driver's seat. She was the one crying.

George was shocked when he heard the news. How could something so horrible happen for no reason? California had been devastated. Building had collapsed into the streets and the high ways had been ripped apart making nearly impossible to get help to anyone trapped in the rubble. The help that did get there mostly found bodies, few survivors. George had decided that Bree would not be one of the bodies, she would be a survivor. She would come out of the rubble alive and whole.

* * *

And that's the preview. What I have so far is about five pages. As you can probably tell it switches from Bree's point of view, to the point of view of people back in England. I'm not sure wheter I should publish it or not, 'cause it's not the real ending of Bree's Hogwarts experience, and if I do put it up should I put up what I have now, or wait until I get to year seven and put both versions up at the same time?

Review please!


	6. Year Two: Summer

Thanks for to my reviewers.

To peltra: Interesting, I hadn't really thought about Bree interacting with Riddle's Diary, but now hmm…(Insert thinking pose here.)

To TKDgirl101: Yes poor little Slytherins, mourn for their sanity. MOURN FOR IT! MUHAHAHAHAHA!

* * *

Bree had had a rather uneventful summer. She had spent most of it with a babysitter while her Dad had worked on a book at the university, and her Mom had been working at the hospital. Granted the babysitter had been challenging to mess with, she had taken everything Bree did in stride.

Now Bree hadn't pranked the sitter outright, mostly because there was no way she would get away with it, as she was the only other person in the house, but she did have fun saying odd things that made the sitter think there was something strange about her. Like how occasionally Bree would ask the sitter, "Are you living today?" The first time this had happened the sitter had responded, "Well of course I am. I couldn't be here if I was dead." Bree had smiled and said "Are you really living, or are you just existing?" The sitter didn't have anything to say to that.

And then there was the week Bree would randomly tell the sitter her favorite bizarre and or outdated laws. She had started with American laws.

"In Florida, unmarried women who parachute on a Sunday could be jailed."

"That's nice, now eat your sandwich."

Then she moved on to other countries.

"Tibetan monks need permission to reincarnate."

"Uh-huh. Put your shoes on before you go play in the yard."

And finally British laws.

"Being topless in Liverpool is illegal unless you are female and work in a tropical fish store."

That one got a reaction. The sitter had stared at her and Bree had showed her the internet sites she had found the laws on. "I can't believe you weren't making those up." the sitter had said when she saw them.

Now it was getting toward the end of summer and Bree wouldn't be seeing the sitter for the next three days , because Bree was going to stay with the Weasley's. Bree would spend the next two nights and on the third day the Weasley's would take Bree with them to Diagon alley for school supplies.

* * *

Bree was at the Weasley's house. Mrs. Weasley had picked her up before her mother had left for her shift at the hospital. The houselooked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic (which Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

Bree had only just set her overnight bag down when Fred and George came and whisked her away to the backyard where they met up with Ron.

"What's going on?" Bree asked.

"Tonight we're going to rescue Harry." Ron whispered.

"And why does Harry need rescuing?" Bree inquired slowly.

"He hasn't wrote back," began Fred.

"to any of Ron's letters." said George.

At first we thought"

"It was just Errol, but now"

"We think that,"

"those awful muggles he lives with,"

"are keeping him locked up."

"Not that all muggles are awful." George quickly amended when he saw the look on Bree's face.

"Just the ones Harry lives with." finished Fred.

"Okay. So how exactly do you intend to rescue him?" Bree questioned skeptically.

Ron was the one who answered. "With Dad's flying car." he stated. Bree blinked.

"Is it a Dolorean?" she asked, her mind having gone immediately to her mother's favorite movie.

"No, it's a Ford Angelia." Ron answered, perplexed.

"Right, so you intend to fly to Surrey, get Harry and his things, then fly back here?" Bree asked. The three brothers nodded.

"Okay, have fun with that." Bree deadpanned.

"Don't you want to come with us?" Ron asked. Bree gave him a funny look. "Think about what you're saying. Now on the way there it would be fine, but on the way back it would be the four of us, plus Harry, his school things and his owl. Someone would have to sit someone else's lap for that to work, so I think I'll just stay here." she explained.

* * *

The rest of the day went by quickly, Bree helped the twins and Ron plan a route to where Harry lived(Bree was surprised to find out that he lived quite close to where she lived, funny she never saw him around…). Then Bree showed them one of her favorite pastimes from when she lived in California. Explore the surrounding area, catch lizards, then shove them into your friends face to make the jump.

* * *

It was now rather late at night at the Burrow and everyone had gone to bed. At least everyone that wasn't named Fred, George, or Ron. Bree was half asleep when she heard noise from outside. She looked out the window and saw a Ford Angelia fly off into the night. She grinned, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Bree was woken up the next morning, if you could call it that as there was barely any light out, by Mrs. Weasley opening the bedroom door.

"Mrs. Weasley, what's wrong?" Bree asked softly as she got up so she wouldn't wake Ginny.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Fred, George, and Ron are, would you dear?" she asked as Bree stepped out into the hall. Bree nodded.

"They said they were going to rescue Harry from his relatives." she explained as she followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley gaped at her. "What where they…? Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

Bree blinked. Truthfully the thought had never crossed her mind. "I'm twelve. I don't normally realize that bad ideas are bad until after the fact." she explained. Mrs. Weasley accepted this answer, after seven children she was quite aware of how a twelve year old's mind worked.

There was a thump from outside. They both turned to the window and saw that the car had just landed. Mrs. Weasley marched across the yard to confront her sons while Bree watched from the window. After a lot of yelling, Mrs. Weasley, her sons, and Harry, finally came into the kitchen. The boys all joined Bree at the table while Mrs. Weasley began to make breakfast. Occasionally she muttered things like, "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it."

"I don't blame you, dear." she assured Harry, putting eight or nine sausages onto his plate.

"Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really," (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate) "flying an illegal car halfway across the country, anyone could have seen you."

"It was cloudy, Mum!" Fred protested.

"You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"They were starving him, Mum!" George exclaimed.

"And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him. Bree supposed that this was because he gave off a pathetic, loved deprived vibe.

Right then Ginny came in, squealed, then ran back out.

"Ginny." Ron said to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer."

"Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word.

Nothing more was said until all four plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time.

"Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and"

"You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to de-gnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again."

"And you two as well. " she said, glaring at Ron and George.

"You two can go to bed. " she said to Harry and Bree. "I didn't mean to wake you, Bree, and Harry, you didn't ask them to fly that wretched car ."

"I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep." Bree stated.

Harry said "I'll help Ron. I've never seen a de-gnoming."

"That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject."

And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned.

"Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden." He protested.

Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book…"

"Mum fancies him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper.

"Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it."

The garden was large, there were plenty of weeds, and the grass needed cutting, but there were gnarled trees all around the walls, plants spilling from every flower bed, and a big green pond full of frogs.

"Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know." Harry said they crossed the lawn.

"People steal them out of the yard." Bree added.

"Why would they do that?" Ron asked, bent over with his head in a peony bush, "like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods…"

"I don't know. To go with their pink plastic flamingos maybe?" Bree speculated.

There was a violent scuffling noise, the peony bush shuddered, and Ron straightened up.

"This is a gnome," he said grimly.

"Gerroff me! Gerroff me!" squealed the gnome.

The gnome was small and leathery looking, and had a head like a potato.

"This is what you have to do," he said. He raised the gnome above his head and started to swing it in great circles like a lasso. Seeing the shocked look on Harry's face, Ron added, "It doesn't hurt them, you've just got to make them really dizzy so they can't find their way back to the gnome holes."

He let go of the gnome's ankles: It flew twenty feet into the air and landed with a thud in the field over the hedge.

"Pitiful," said Fred. "I bet I can get mine beyond that stump."

The air was soon thick with flying gnomes.

"See, they're not too bright," stated George, seizing five or six gnomes at once. "The moment they know the de-gnoming's going on they storm up to have a look. You'd think they'd have learned by now just to stay put."

Soon, the crowd of gnomes in the field started walking away in a straggling line, their little shoulders hunched.

"They'll be back," said Ron as they watched the gnomes disappear into the hedge on the other side of the field. "They love it here, Dad's too soft with them; he thinks they're funny."

Just then, the front door slammed.

"He's back!" George exclaimed. "Dad's home!"

They hurried through the garden and back into the house.

Mr. Weasley was slumped in a kitchen chair with his glasses off and his eyes closed.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot as they all sat down around him. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned."

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.

"Find anything, Dad?" Fred inquired eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley.

"There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness."

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" asked George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it. Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking, they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face. But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe."

"LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?" Mrs. Weasley had appeared, holding a long poker like a sword. Mr. Weasley's eyes jerked open. He stared guiltily at his wife.

"C-cars, Molly, dear?" he stuttered.

"Yes, Arthur, cars," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes flashing. "Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while really he was enchanting it to make it fly."

Mr. Weasley blinked.

"Well, dear, I think you'll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if , er, he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth. There's a loophole in the law, you'll find. As long as he wasn't intending to fly the car, the fact that the car could fly wouldn't"

"Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren't intending to fly!"

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley said blankly. "Harry who?"

He looked around, saw Harry, and jumped.

"Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about —"

"Your sons flew that car to Harry's house and back last night!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted with a shout.

"What have you got to say about that, eh?"

"Did you really?" Mr. Weasley questioned eagerly. "Did it go all right? I — I mean," he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley's eyes, "that — that was very wrong, boys — very wrong indeed…"

"Come on let's go." George said to Bree.

"We can show the latest prank we've been working on." stated Fred.

* * *

Bree spent the rest of the day helping the twins. When the trio came down for dinner Bree's hair was singed and every once and a while she would glare and George. No one asked why.

* * *

The next day Mrs. Weasley got them all up early to go to Diagon alley. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today… Ah well, guests first! Which one of you would like to go first?"

And she offered Harry and Bree the flowerpot.

Harry stared at them all watching him. Bree gave a look that clearly said "Help me" to the twins.

"They've never traveled by Floo powder." Fred stated.

"Never?" said Mr. Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?" he question

"I went in the car." Bree stated.

"I went on the Underground." Said Harry.

"Really?" Mr. Weasley eagerly asked. "Were there escapators? How exactly —"

"Not now, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before —"

"He'll be all right, Mum," said Fred. "Harry, watch us first."

He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the flowerpot, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Fred, who stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.

"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry as George dipped his hand into the flowerpot. "And be sure to get out at the right grate…"

"The right what?" said Harry nervously as the fire roared and whipped George out of sight, too.

"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly —"

"They'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," said Mr. Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder too.

"But, dear, if he got lost, how would we ever explain to their families?"

"I get lost all the time Mrs. Weasley. I think my parents are used to it." Bree assured.

"Well… all right… you go after Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going."

"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advised.

"And your eyes shut," said Mrs. Weasley. "The soot —"

"Don't fidget," said Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace."

"But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see Fred and George."

Bree sighed, took some Floo powder, tossed it into the flames, and stepped forward. "Diagon Alley." she said firmly, and the world began to spin. After what seemed like hours, Bree toppled out of the fireplace in the Leaky Caldron. A few minutes later Mrs. Weasley. Ginny, and Percy followed. Mrs. Weasley looked around franticly. Apparently Harry had stuttered and gotten lost in the Floo.

* * *

After about ten minutes Harry was found over by Gringotts.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley panted, having ran franticly to find Harry. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far…" He mopped his glistening bald patch. "Molly's frantic, she's coming now . "

"Where did you come out?" Ron asked.

"Knockturn Alley," said Hagrid grimly.

"Excellent!" Fred and George exclaimed together.

"We've never been allowed in," said Ron enviously.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid.

"What's Knockturn Alley?" Bree asked just as Mrs. Weasley came running into view, her handbag swinging wildly in one hand, Ginny just clinging onto the other.

"It's this wicked place full of dark magic." Fred answered.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.

"No, he was selling." Harry answered.

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something…"

"You be careful, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley stated sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew!"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley said indignantly, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.

Bree took this opportunity to change over her money. Mixed in with the British pounds that she had gotten from her parents were American dollars she had gotten from friends and family back in the states for her birthday, and she really didn't want Mr. Weasley to see them. After thanking the goblin, who looked a bit surprised at how polite she was, but quickly chalked it up to her being muggleborn, she rejoined the group and requested permission to stay with the Grangers while the Weasleys and Harry went down to the vaults.

* * *

After the Weasleys and Harry had returned from the vaults, everyone spilt up. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. Bree went with Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins'.

Bree frowned. She had already seen the list of the years required books and had decided, after looking through the books Mrs. Weasley had that were written by the man, that she would only buy one of Lockhart's books, because frankly the man seemed to be a pompous idiot.

Line

After Bree and the twins met up with Lee the four of them went to Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop to stock up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will be signing copies of his autobiography

MAGICAL ME

today 12:30P. 4:30P.M.

Bree wrinkled her nose in distaste. She grabbed the books she needed and joined the Weasley's and the Granger's in line. Ron, Harry, and Hermione soon joined them.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute…"

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash. Bree wanted to go up and kick him. She hated the paparazzi. Their photos either looked staged and emotionless, or like something a creepy stalker would take. She preferred the photographers from the National Geographic. The photos they took looked like pieces of real life and were always filled with emotion.

Lockhart spotted Harry. "It can't be Harry Potter!" he exclaimed.

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dove forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face was red as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly.

"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography, which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge ." The crowd applauded again.

"He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me.

"_Oh God no." _Bree thought in alarm.

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" Lockhart declared.

"_Whose puppy did I kick!" _Bree despaired internally.

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

"You have these," Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the cauldron. "I'll buy my own."

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice that Bree knew to be Draco.

"Hello Malfoy. Out shopping for a new dress? I have some pictures of you in the old one. Do you think the reporter over there will be interested?" Bree said before the Slytherin could say anything else.

"Why you…you." he sputtered as a man who was quite obviously Draco's father walked up.

"Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley." Mr. Malfoy said.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids… I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy." he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower."

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf, knocking it over.

"Get him, Dad!" yelled Fred.

"No, Arthur, no!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. The crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over.

"Gentlemen, please, please!" cried the assistant, and then, loudest of all "Break it up, there, gents, break it up."

Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl, take your book, it's the best your father can give you." Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that, no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter, bad blood, that's what it is, come on now let's get outta here."

The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking with fright and Mrs. Weasley beside herself with fury.

"A fine example to set for your children… brawling in public… what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought."

"Who cares about him?" asked George.

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report — said it was all publicity."

But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, Bree, the Weasleys, and all their shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder. They said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

* * *

Back at the Burrow, it was a few hours before Bree had to go back home and she was by the frog pond with the twins. The twins were talking about the fight at the bookshop, and Bree was catching frogs and trying to stack her captives from biggest to smallest. She could only get the stack three frogs high before one would jump off. Eventually Bree gave up and tried to stuff one of the frogs down George's shirt. It soon devolved into madness and all three of them, laughing like crazy, fell into the pond.

* * *

I feel like the sitter needs a name and physical description. Any ideas? Also, I still can't decide what to do with the story I previewed last chapter.

Review please.


	7. Year Two: Teachers Lack Common Sense

**Thanks for the reviews! **

**Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine, the rest belongs to Rowling.**

**

* * *

**

Bree was sitting in the passenger seat of her family's SUV. Her Dad, who was 6'4" couldn't fit into a smaller vehicle.

"And be more careful this year." he said as he parked. "I don't want another letter saying that you've set yourself on fire or something."

"I'll try." Bree answered as she got out of the car. Her Dad went around to the back of the SUV and got Bree's rolling trunk out. They walked to the platform, said their goodbyes, and Bree went to find a place to sit. She soon ran into Hermione.

"Have you seen Ron or Harry?" the bushy haired girl asked. Bree shook her head. Hermione sighed. "If you see them tell them I'm looking for them." she requested before continuing her search.

* * *

Bree found out when the train arrived at Hogwarts that Hermione had never found Ron or Hermione, and it was soon revealed that no one else on the had seen them one the train either. Hermione was worried, but Bree was soon distracted by the horseless carriages.

* * *

Sitting at the Gryffindor table Bree watched the first years *coughfreshmeatcough* being sorted with mild interest, picking out which ones would be the most fun to traumatize. After the sorting had ended Snape walked in and said something to McGonagall and Dumbledore, who quickly left the hall. News of what was going on quickly spread through the school. Harry and Ron had flown a car all the way to Hogwarts. After the feast, Gryffindor had an impromptu party in the common.

Cheers rang out from everyone except Hermione and Percy when Ron and Harry walked in. The duo quickly retreated upstairs to the dorm. When Bree went up to her dorm she was treated to a long rant about how stupid the two boys were, courtesy of Hermione.

* * *

The next day, Bree slept in late and got down to the great hall just in time to see Ron pull an owl out of a jug of milk. The owl was holding a red envelope in it's beak. Neville and Ron were staring at it in horror.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"She's — she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't.

My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and," he gulped, "it was horrible."

Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.

"What's a Howler?" he said.

But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A moment later Bree was forced to do the same because the whole Hall was filled with the sound of Mrs. Weasley yelling.

"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —"

"—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Bree's ears were ringing, and she now had the beginnings of what promised to be a very painful headache. She sighed, grabbed a piece of toast off the table and a course schedule from McGonagall, before heading back to the dorm to get some ibuprofen, before heading to her first class.

* * *

Bree got down to the greenhouses just as Professor Sprout walked up, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and Bree spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

"Oh, hello there!" Lockhart called. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels."

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before. Greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door.

Bree had just entered the greenhouse, when she heard Lockhart say, "Harry! I've been wanting a word — you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had finally come in and taken his place between Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as though she had memorized the textbook.

"It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an

essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Bree raised her, and Professor Sprout called on her. "If you hear the cry of a mandrake, you'll die." Bree explained.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right, earmuffs on."

Bree did as she was told. The earmuffs shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

A small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she stated calmly.

"However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here, compost in the sacks over there, and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth. Halfway through class, Bree tired and not paying attention to what she was doing, reverted back to an old habit she had picked up from gardening with her mother on her days off from work. It was a pretty simple trick. She tapped the sides and bottom of the pot, positioned one hand so that is was right on top of the dirt with the leaves poking between her fingers, then tipped the pot so the mandrake slid out dirt and all. She quickly stuck the mandrake in a new pot, and covered it with dirt, not noticing Professor Sprout staring at her.

At the end of class Professor Sprout pulled Bree aside. "Where did you learn that trick you used to repot the mandrakes?" she asked. Bree was confused for a minute, then she realized what Sprout was talking about. "Oh that! My Mom show me that. It's better for the plant than just yanking on them, and it's easier too. You just got to loosen up the dirt and they slide right out." she explained.

"Ten points to Gryffindor." Sprout stated before letting Bree go on to her next class.

* * *

Bree next class was Transfiguration. The lesson was turning a beetle into a button. Bree saw this to be a completely useless exercise. What was the practical application of turning a beetle into a button? And if she ever did have a button emergency, where would she get a beetle? Wouldn't it be easier to use something that didn't run from you, like a pebble or a bottle cap? Needless to say by the time class was over, McGonagall was quite frustrated.

* * *

After lunch Bree wandered over to the courtyard. As soon as she got there she heard Lockhart say "What's all this, what's all this? Who's giving out signed photos?" Seeing Draco nearby Bree quickly answered, "Malfoy is."

"Malfoy?" Lockhart questioned.

Bree nodded. "See I have one right here." she said pulling a photo of Malfoy in a dress out to show him. Lockhart took it from her and examined it. "Cross-dressing Draco? Now I can understand the need to explore your feminine side but if your father found out about this…" Draco looked mortified as Lockhart lectured him about "The pitfalls of cross-dressing." Bree smirked.

"Why," Ron began, "are you carrying around a picture of Draco in a dress?"

"It amuses me." Bree explained before turning her attention to a small blond boy with a camera. "Shoo. Get a life you little stalkarazzi wannabe." she said to Colin. The boy quickly scurried off. Bree turned to Harry. "You shouldn't encourage him. First it's a photo-op, then the next thing you know they're going through your trash." she warned before heading to her next class, which was, unfortunately, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

* * *

Bree sat in the very back of the class, as close to the door as she could be. She took out her copy of Voyages with Vampires, which was the only book of Lockhart's she had bought, and waited for the rest of the class to arrive.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force

Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books. Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in."

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start now!"

Bree looked down at her paper and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

"Who cares?" Bree wrote.

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

Bree scribbled down "To be the most famous person ever."

3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

Bree smirked. "Not getting exposed as an incompetent moron."

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

"I don't know, or care, and more fame." Bree wrote.

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut, hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully. I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples, though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"… but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions. Good girl! In fact" he flipped her paper over "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so to business."

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class, minus Bree who was watching the whole affair with a rather bored expression, held its breath. Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

It was rather anticlimactic.

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not — they're not very —dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

Bree quickly grabbed her things and left the classroom as the pixies began zooming around.

* * *

That evening, a little bit before dinner, Bree snuck into Lockhart's room, found his trunk, and dumped a cage full of stunned pixies into it.

* * *

431. Not allowed to fill Lockhart's trunk with Cornish Pixies.

* * *

She then went down to dinner, where the twins, seeing the pleased and slightly vindictive look on her face, kept asking her what she had done. Bree didn't tell them, and hours later Lockhart's screams could be heard throughout the castle.

**

* * *

**

Ever notice how most wizards seem to lack common sense. If the plants that can knock you out by crying don't want to come out of the dirt, then leave them in it for crying out loud! Oh, and the sitter's name will be Chloe, thanks to InsaneGummiBears for that. But she still needs a physical description, and probably a last name. Any ideas?

**Review please.**


	8. Year Two: Her is Sanity Questionable

**To any who noticed that I uploaded the same chapter twice: I noticed an error and fixed it, sorry.**

**

* * *

**

Okay so Angel Protectress suggested the last name Fisk for the sitter and gave a physical description of a middle aged woman with shoulder length light brown hair that's graying at the temples, plump, but not overweight, and prefers to wear her hair in a pony tail. Which is great except a little while before I read her review I decided that the sitter was college age and was babysitting to work off her tuition and expenses so here is the bio for the sitter.

**Chloe Fisk**

**Age: 20**

**Appearance: Shoulder length light brown hair that she wears in a ponytail. Hazel eyes. Good looking, but not overly thin.**

**Thanks for the help.**

* * *

The next day, Bree managed to corner Harry and got him to tell her exactly why he had needed to be rescued. Harry told her about a house elf that was stealing his letters to keep him from coming to school, and that's why he hadn't written back. Then Bree asked about what happened when the Weasley's showed up in a flying car. Harry told her about how they pried the bars off his window. This didn't bother Bree in the least. Bars on the window were quite common in the more crime laden areas of Southern California. Harry had neglected to tell her that his was the only window with bars on it.

Then he told her about how the twins had picked the lock on his door. "They locked you in your room!" Bree exclaimed.

"Well, it's not that bad. At least they didn't put me in the cupboard again." Harry quickly realized that this was the wrong thing to say. Bree looked angry, and there was a terrifying fury in her eyes. "Excuse me Harry, I have business to attend to." she said before taking her leave.

* * *

Veron Dursley prided himself on being normal. As far as he was concerned he had a normal job, a normal house, a normal wife, and a normal son. The only thing abnormal in his life was his wife's nephew, but he was away at his freaky school and wouldn't be bothering him until summer.

And so on this normal, in his normal house, Veron opened what seemed to be a normal letter. As soon as he did so white power came out of the envelope. The note read "This is Anthrax, prepare to die."

"Petunia! Call the police!" Veron shouted

* * *

286. Not allowed to send an envelope full of baby power with a note saying "This is Anthrax, prepare to die." to the Dursley's.

* * *

The police came quickly. So did just about every other government law enforcement agency, along with a hazmat team. Number Four Pivet Drive was quarantined,. Petunia and Veron were stripped down and showered off, before being taken to the hospital. They were released the next day when it was discovered that the white power was baby power.

* * *

- because it upsets the muggle government, that's why

* * *

Bree was reading a letter from her parents. Her mother had written her about the fake Anthrax scare and about what had happened to the Dursley's. Quite pleased with the results Bree decided to keep disrupting the Dursley's "normal" lives. The next letter she sent contained no powder. It only had one simple sentence. "I will come into your house at night and steal all your bacon."

The next one said "I will put eggs in your chimney." Bree decided to leave the Dursley's alone for a bit, so that they would let their guard down, before she sent the next one.

* * *

423. Not allowed to send anonymous and bizarre threats to the Dursley's.

* * *

Over the days that Bree spent tormenting the Dursley's she forgot about the problem of Colin Creevy. Colin, a first year that was obsessed with Harry, would follow Harry around and take pictures. Harry didn't have the heart to tell him off, so Bree decided to take measures. Telling him to go away didn't really do much, so Bree began to follow him around with a camera and randomly take photos with the flash on. After one such incident Professor McGonagall gave Bree detention because Colin, partially blinded by the flash, had walked into a wall.

* * *

222. Not allowed to follow Colin Creevy around with my camera "Just to see how he likes it."

* * *

Colin was still taking photos of Harry. It was annoying. Bree gave him a death glare every time he came near but it did little to deter him. One day, Bree got an axe from one of the suits of armor, found it to be to heavy for her to lift, cast a feather-light charm on it, then followed Colin around with it.

Now, she knew she would get in trouble if she was spotted with the axe, so instead of threatening the boy outright she would peek around corners from where only Colin could see her, shake the axe threateningly at him, then disappear before anyone else could see her.

* * *

223. Not allowed to follow Colin around with an axe in order to "Stop him from taking anymore of those bloody pictures."

* * *

One day she got caught by Percy ("Honestly, what is wrong with you? Did the twins put you up to this?") but she was perfectly fine with that because Colin was jumping at shadows for the next week.

* * *

In the Gryffindor common room, Colin was showing off the pictures he had taken and developed. Bree caught sight of them and grimaced.

"This one is out of focus." she commented holding one up, she picked another. "The composition of this one is completely off. That horizon cuts it in half."

"And you think you could do better?" an uppity dark haired first year asked her. Bree grinned. "Oh I know I can do better, wait here." Bree went up to her dorm. Next to her bed hung her two greatest accomplishments. Pictures that gave her a sense of pride. The first was a photo of a brightly colored rainbow lorikeet perched on a branch. It was perfectly in focus and all the little details of the feathers could be seen. The second was a picture of a butterfly. It was sitting delicately on a flower that was just as pink as the spot on its wing. Bree carefully took them down, along with the ribbons that went with them.

She went back to the common room where Colin was still waiting, his friends had left. She set the pictures down on a nearby table, with the ribbons next to them. "Come here." she commanded. Colin quickly walked over to where she was standing. "Now look at this one," she said pointing to the bird, "its perfectly in focus, you can clearly see the texture of the feathers, and that's just the way you want it, subject in focus, background out of focus to make the subject stand out more. That's why it got all the way to the stated fair from county." she explained.

"Now this one is a good example of composition." she said pointing to the butterfly. "See how it's off to the side. Putting it in the middle made it look awkward, but like this it got a blue ribbon at state."

"But the people in wizard photos move." Colin protested. "Yes, yes, but the background doesn't. You don't want a line cutting the photo in half, it looks weird." Bree stated.

"Why are the ribbons different colors?" Colin asked after a minute. Bree blinked.

"Hmm? Oh! It's because even though they both went all the way to state, the butterfly did better." she explained.

"How come?" Colin inquired.

Bree began to answer "Well I think it's because" "Bree!" she was cut off by Percy. "What are you doing to that boy?"

"I was just…" Bree protested.

"No excuses come with me." he commanded, leading her to Professor McGonagall's office.

* * *

224. Now allowed to shove my photography awards in Colin's face.

* * *

A few days later, Bree went out to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch practice. When she got to the field she saw that Colin Creevy, Ron, and Hermione, where already there. Colin was taking pictures of Harry. At the edge of the field Bree noticed some figures in Emerald green robes approaching. Bree groaned as Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain went to confront the Slytherin team.

Bree, Ron and Hermione all went down to see what was going on. "What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to bribe anyone to get in. Unlike a certain talent less Daddy's boy I know of." Bree responded, smirking.

* * *

247. Just because Draco's father bought his house team new brooms and he was subsequently made Seeker does not make him "A talent less Daddy's boy."

* * *

The smug look on Malfoy's face vanished.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood." he snarled.

Bree knew that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!" and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoys face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, and the pair of them pulled Ron up by the arms.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the field. Ron gave a huge heave and more slugs dribbled down his front.

"Oooh," said Colin, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

Bree felt like smacking the boy.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" Harry demanded angrily. He and Hermione supported Ron out of the stadium and across the grounds toward the edge of the forest.

"What exactly does "Mudblood" mean?" Bree asked the twins.

"Er, well, that is…" Fred stammered.

"Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born. There are some wizards, like Malfoy's family, who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." George explained.

"Oh." Bree said. She looked over to where the Slytherins were still laughing. She turned back to the twins. "I just remembered something I had to do today." she said with a fake smile.

"Bree…" George said trying to stop her.

"I'll see you two later, alright." Bree said as she left.

* * *

"Password." the portrait guarding the Slytherin common room demanded.

"Pure-blood." Bree stated simply.

The portrait swung open. Bree peeked inside. Seeing no one there she quickly located the boys dorm. She found the sign that said "Second Years" and went in. Finding Malfoy's trunk wasn't hard. It was monogrammed with his name. She pried it open and quickly poured in a box of white power followed by a bottle of clear liquid before slamming the trunk closed. Then she left the Slytherin dorm.

* * *

396. Not allowed to fill Draco's trunk with vinegar and baking soda

* * *

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened.

Bree, conscious of how tired the team was becoming, got up even earlier than Oliver, and by that I mean she waited until everyone was asleep, pulled a roll of duct tape (that she had brought from home that she had been planning to use in a prank involved rubber ducks, but she forgot the ducks) out of her trunk and snuck into the boys dorm. She used most of the roll taping Oliver to the bed. She also made sure to cover his mouth so he couldn't yell and wake everyone up anyway, then she shut the curtains around his bed and went back to her own dorm.

* * *

271. Not allowed to duct tape Oliver Wood to his bed.

* * *

The next morning Bree woke up to the sound of pouring rain. She went down to breakfast and found the Quidditch team happily enjoying breakfast.

"I dunno, maybe Wood finally got the hint." she heard Fred say.

Mean while, upstairs Percy was had just flung open the curtains to Oliver's bed and was gaping a the sight of him struggling with the shiny tape while yelling "MMMM MMM MM MMM!" which probably wasn't what he was saying but that's all that Percy could make out.

* * *

- even if the Quidditch team appreciated not having to get up to practice that morning, as it was raining.

* * *

About a week or so later, it was Halloween. The feast went better then last year, no one came running in yelling about a troll. When the feast ended everyone left the hall, everything was well until they came to a certain passage where Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!".

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

What's going on here? What's going on?"

Attracted no doubt by Malfoy's shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!" he screeched. "You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll"

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster, just upstairs, please feel free…"

"_Suck up." _Bree thought.

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Bree stared after them for a moment, them yawned and headed up to bed.

* * *

History of Magic was the most boring subject ever, and Bree usually liked history. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss … er…?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms, Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped off his desk, and Bree looked up from her doodles.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Harry was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before.

"However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational, even ludicrous tale."

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Apparently he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets…You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy.

After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir. What exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing"

"Where any of the headmasters and headmistresses the true heir of Slytherin?" Bree interrupted.

"Well no. Not that I'm aware of, but"

"So it could be that only the heir can find it." Bree stated.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history, to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual stupor.

* * *

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to them, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf.

"_Wow, I'm learning even less than I did from Qurril." _Bree thought as she doodle in a notebook.

"Nice loud howl, Harry, exactly, and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced, like this, slammed him to the floor, thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down, with my other, I put my wand to his throat. I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm, he let out a piteous moan, go on, Harry, higher than that, good, the fur vanished, the fangs shrank, and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective, and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework: compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

Bree left the classroom as quickly as possible and began muttering to herself. "Lying idiot. Couldn't even defend himself from pixies. Somebody out to lock him in a closet. With snakes." Bree was starting to look happier at each work. "Poisonous snakes." She turned her head to the right, as if she was talking to someone. "But were would we get poisonous snakes?" she asked. She turned her head to the left. "Well were going to California for winter break, we might be able to catch some rattlesnakes." Her head turned to the right again. "That's far too long to wait. Let's buy some from the internet." Left again. "But we have no computer." She put her hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically "You just had to remind me." At this point some first year Hufflepuff's were scurrying away from her. She smirked and continued walking.

* * *

320. Not allowed to talk to myself in hallways to scare people.

* * *

**So I decided what I will do with the stary I previewed a few chapters ago. I'm going to post it along when I get to seventh year. This will give me time to work out plot details, and I won't give away any spoilers for the other years 'cause it would be diffecult to write a seventh year fic without revealing wat happened in previous years.**

**Review please!**


	9. Year Two: Threatening Lockhart &Firstees

**Disclaimer: Bree is mine, the list is mine. The stuff from Harry Potter and Doctor who is not mine.**

* * *

The next day was the first match of the Quidditch season. It was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin and the house rivalry was as intense as ever.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air.

As the Gryffindor team walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

"All right there, Scarhead?" yelled Malfoy, shooting underneath him as though to show off the speed of his broom.

Harry had no time to reply. At that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him; he avoided it so narrowly that he felt it ruffle his hair as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" said George, streaking past him with his club in his hand, ready to knock the Bludger back toward a Slytherin. Harry saw George give the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the Bludger swerved like a boomerang and shot at Harry's head.

Bree thought the Bludger looked a bit like a cannonball. She wondered what would happen if it hit Malfoy in the stomach. She grinned. "Entrails, entrails, falling from the sky." She sung under her breath, before deciding that she had had far too much sugar at breakfast, while everyone that had heard her slowly inched away.

* * *

559. Now allowed to randomly sing "Entrails, entrails, falling from the sky."

* * *

Harry put on a burst of speed and zoomed toward the other end of the Bludger zoomed after him. Fred Weasley was waiting for the Bludger at the other end. Harry ducked as Fred swung at the Bludger with all his might; the Bludger was knocked off course.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled happily, but he was wrong; as though it was magnetically attracted to Harry, the Bludger pelted after him once more and Harry was forced to fly off at full speed.

It had started to rain and Bree pulled out the umbrella she had brought with her.

"Slytherin lead, sixty points to zero." Bree heard Lee Jordan say.

The Slytherins' superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying close to him in order to keep him from getting hurt or killed. George signaled wood for a time out while stopping the Bludger breaking Harry's nose at the same time.

Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry, Fred, and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.

The Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. Bree silently planned the next prank she would pull on them.

After a few minutes, and an apparent argument, the game restarted. This time Harry was left to deal with the Bludger on his own. Higher and higher Harry climbed; he looped and swooped, spiraled, zigzagged, and rolled.

At one point, Harry hung in midair for to long and the Bludger caught up to him. It smashed into his elbow. From the funny way his arm now hung, Bree could tell it was broken.

The Bludger came pelting back for a second attack, this time zooming at his face. Harry swerved out of the way and went diving toward Malfoy.

Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch. Apparently he had caught the Snitch but was now only gripping the broom with his legs, and there was a yell from the crowd as he headed straight for the ground. With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off his broom. His arm was hanging at a very strange, and most likely painful, angle. And then he passed out. Every Gryffindor rushed down to the field, as Fred and George wrestled the Bludger back into its box. Somehow, Lockhart got to Harry first. Harry regained consciousness. "Oh, no, not you," he moaned as soon as he saw Lockhart.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," said Lockhart loudly to the anxious crowd. **"**Not to worry, Harry. I'm about to fix your arm." Hearing this. Bree panicked and tried to push her way to the front of the crowd right as Harry said "No! I'll keep it like this, thanks…"

He tried to sit up and noticed Colin nearby taking pictures.

"I don't want a photo of this, Colin," he said loudly.

"Lie back, Harry," said Lockhart soothingly. "It's a simple charm I've used countless times."

Bree pushed harder through the crowd. "Don't let him!" she said.

"Why can't I just go to the hospital wing?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.

"He should really, Professor," said a muddy Wood, who couldn't help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. "Great capture, Harry, really spectacular, your best yet, I'd say!"

"Stand back," said Lockhart, who was rolling up his jade-green sleeves.

"No!" Bree exclaimed, just as she broke through the crowd. But it was to late, Lockhart had already cast the spell. Harry's arm looked as if it was deflating. Bree glared at Lockhart. "I've had a lot of bad teachers before, but really, you just take the cake!" she snapped at him.

Lockhart winced. "Well the point is, the bones are no longer broken." he said.

"Broken! Broken! There are no bones at all. Harry didn't even want you to attempt helping him!" Bree shrieked.

"But you, the oh so fantastic Lockhart, thought you knew better than a healer. Now look at him." She ranted. The field was silent for a moment before Bree was calmed down enough to speak again. "You know," she began with a wicked grin, "in America someone would get sued for something like this." She stated.

"Sued?" Lockhart questioned weakly.

Bree nodded "Yes, sued. You know, you get taken to court and a judge takes all of your money to give to the victim for damages." She explained. Then she turned to Harry and helped him up. "Come on. Let's get you to the hospital wing, then we'll find you a lawyer."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey wasn't at all pleased.

"You should have come straight to me!" she raged, holding up the sad, limp remainder of what, half an hour before, had been a working arm.

"I can mend bones in a second — but growing them back —"

"You will be able to, won't you?" said Harry desperately.

"I'll be able to, certainly, but it will be painful," said Madam Pomfrey grimly, throwing Harry a pair of pajamas.

"You'll have to stay the night…"

Hermione and Bree waited outside the curtain drawn around Harry's bed while Ron helped him into his pajamas. It took a while to stuff the rubbery, boneless arm into a sleeve.

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione, eh?" Ron called through the curtain as he pulled Harry's limp fingers through the cuff. "If Harry had wanted deboning he would have asked."

"I wonder if this counts as assault." Bree wondered aloud. "Then we can get Lockhart arrested."

"Arrested!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's taking it to far. Anyone can make a mistake."

"One mistake yes. But this is starting to be a pattern. I wonder if I should keep a record. Then, at the very least, he can be fired for incompetence." Bree responded, before leaving the hospital wing, apparently off to start on her record.

* * *

The next morning word spread throughout the Great Hall the Colin Creevy had been petrified. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevy in Charms, was distraught. Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues.

They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful. "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas, Bree, who already had other plans, didn't sign up.

* * *

Bree was staring at Harry with an odd look on her face. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked.

"I asked if you could give me a firework." Harry answered.

"That's what I thought you said." Bree answered. She grinned. "Oh little Harry all grow up and ready to cause trouble, I'm so proud. Wait here a minute and I'll get you one." She went to her dorm and came back a minute later. "Now this one I free, but the next one will cost you." she stated as she handed Harry the firework.

"Right, thanks." said Harry.

* * *

Bree hadn't asked what Harry wanted the firework for, but she found out in potions class when Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon.

Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate. Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, Harry saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape's office.

"Silence! SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft. When I find out who did this…"

As half the class lumbered up to Snape's desk, some weighted down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips, Harry saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging.

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall make sure that person is expelled."

* * *

Three days after the incident in potions, Bree was walking down the hall when she heard some first years whispering about Slytherin's monster. Bree smirked, sensing an opportunity.

"It doesn't really matter what kind of monster Slytherin had. What you really have to worry about is the Vashta Nerada." she told them.

"What is Vashta Nerada?" one girl questioned timidly.

"Almost every being on the planet, has an irrational fear of the dark, but they're wrong, 'cause it's not irrational, it's Vashta Nerada. It's what's in the dark. Tiny little things. Individually they're next to impossible to see. But they tend to form swarms, and as swarms you can see them. They tend to hang out in darkness, but in the light they look like shadows."

"Every shadow?" another first year interrupted.

"No, not every shadow, but any shadow. Especially the shadows cast by nothing. They are able to strip a creature to its bare bones in milliseconds. Hogwarts has a swarm or two. They mostly feed on house elves, but every once and awhile a student will go missing. Usually some poor little first year that got lost. So, make sure to stay in the light, and make sure that you know where every shadow is coming from." Bree explained.

"What do we do if we see a swarm of Vashta Nerada?" a boy asked.

"Daleks: Aim for the eyestalk. Sontarans: Back of the neck. Vashta Nerada: Run." Bree told them. "You can't fight them, you can't get rid of them. Just run." And with that she left.

* * *

197. Hogwarts is not infested with Vashta Nerada.

* * *

A few days later, word got around that there was going to be a dueling club. Bree wasn't going to go. She had detention with McGonagall for telling first years that Dumbledore was hiding gold under the womping willow.

* * *

33. There is no gold under the womping willow and it is wrong to tell first years that there is.

* * *

The next day she was glad she hadn't, Lockhart had been teaching, and on top of that it had been revealed that Harry could talk to snakes, so now most of the school thought he was the heir of Slytherin. When Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick turned up petrified, the rumors gained even more momentum.

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…"

Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.

"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."

"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant," said George, chortling.

Ginny didn't find it amusing either.

"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

Bree took a very different approach to the situation. By distracting everyone by drawing Satanic symbols on the walls in red. This worked as the wizaeding population of the school were busy trying to figure out what the symbols meant and didn't have time to bother Harry.

* * *

76. Not allowed draw Satanic symbols on the walls.

* * *

She was quickly caught and given detention by McGonagall. She wasn't able to do much more because she had to leave for Christmas break.

* * *

**So…guess what episode of Doctor Who I've been watching!**

**Review Please!**


	10. Year Two: Crying Ghosts & Burning books

**(Fixed some errors in this chapter.)**

**Disclaimer: I own Bree and the rules. I do not own Harry Potter.**

**

* * *

**

Bree had a day and a half to get ready before it was time to go to America to visit her relatives there for Christmas. During this time she egged the Dursley's chimney and stole their bacon. She then put the bacon in the trunk off their car so it would smell like rotting meat.

* * *

When Bree went back to Hogwarts, she brought several cans of spary paint a two rolls of duct tape with her. Hermione had been confined to the hospital wing and rumor had it that she had been attacked. Bree began spreading her own rumor that it was actually a Ravenclaw who was attacking people. Her argument went something like this "Knowledge is power, right? And power corrupts, and the Ravenclaws are always learning so they have to be evil."

* * *

335. Just because knowledge is power, and power corrupts does not mean that the Ravenclaws are evil.

* * *

This rumor was given a quick death by Snape.

* * *

Bree then took her cans of spray paint and painted over the message from the heir of Slytherin with her own message in bright yellow and blue.

* * *

219. Not allowed to spray paint graffiti on the wall to "brighten things up."

* * *

The message, which took up a good potion of the wall said simply, "Slytherin Sucks." Her was caught because she couldn't wash the paint completely off her hands. Her graffiti was left in place because it wasn't as creepy or disturbing as what is was covering up.

* * *

Bree was walking by Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when she heard wailing and saw water seeping in under the door. She sighed and entered the bathroom.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

"What's wrong Myrtle?" Bree asked as she approached.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

Bree blinked. "Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me…"

"Who threw it at you?" Bree asked.

I don't know… I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle. "It's over there, it got washed out…"

Bree looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Bree picked it up and opened it "T M. Riddle" was written on the first page in smudged ink. Bree looked through the rest of the pages. They were all blank.

She said goodbye to Myrtle and went up to her dorm.

* * *

When Bree got up to the dorm she felt compelled to write in the diary. So she did.

"My name is Bree Smith." the words stayed put for a minute, then disappeared into the page. A moment later word that Bree hadn't written came oozing onto the page.

"Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?" Theses words soon disappeared as well, but not before Bree began writing back.

"Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."

"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."

"What do you mean?" Bree wrote back.

"I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Bree paused for a moment, thinking, before writing. "Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."

"It's happening again. People have been attacked. No one knows who's doing it. Who was it last time?"

"I can show you, if you like, "came Riddle's reply. "You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."

Bree thought for a moment. "Fine. Do it." she wrote back.

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. That the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. The window was widening, Bree was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow

She felt her feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around her came suddenly into focus.

She was in an office. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Bree had never seen this man before.

The wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Bree watched patiently as the wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past her without glancing at her , and went to draw the curtains at his window.

The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than Bree, and had jet-black hair.

"Ah, Riddle," said the old wizard.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," said Dipper kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that —"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents…?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me. Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "Special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…"

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" Riddle asked.

"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy… the death of that poor little girl… You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the, er, source of all this unpleasantness…"

Riddle's eyes had widened.

"Sir, if the person was caught, if it all stopped…"

"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair.

"Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.

He was lying.

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

"You may go, Tom…"

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Bree followed him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did Bree, watching him. Bree could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Bree following behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

Bree blinked in surprise. The wizard was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir." answered Riddle.

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…"

He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Bree following him.

Riddle led her to the very dungeon in which Bree had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Bree could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

It felt to Bree that they were there for at least an hour. All she could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue.

Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed. Bree followed him.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Bree heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon… gotta get yeh outta here… C'mon now… in the box…"

There was something familiar about that voice…

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Bree stepped out behind him. She could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

"Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?"

Riddle stepped closer.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"'N at d'yeh —"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and "

"It never killed no one!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking.

"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…"

"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn'! He never!"

"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came … a very large spider. Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The spider bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOO!"

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Bree felt herself falling and, with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on the floor, Riddle's diary lying open on her stomach.

She stayed like that for a few minutes, thinking. "_Hagrid is not the heir of Slytherin. Slytherin is know for snakes, not spiders, and besides, Hagrid could barely keep a baby dragon hidden on his own, let alone a monster that petrifies and kills."_ She smirked got up off the floor and wrote in the diary one last time.

"Liar, liar, very soon to be on fire." And with those parting words she took the diary down to the common room and chucked it into the fire, before leaving. She didn't notice Harry and Ron come in after she had left.

* * *

Bree was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom again. She needed to ask the ghost something., Well actually she would have preferred to ask Nearly Headless Nick but seeing how he was indisposed she thought Myrtle the safest choice out of the rest of the Hogwarts Ghosts. "Myrtle what do you know about the girl who died here fifty years ago?" Bree asked.

"Oh that was me." Myrtle stated cheerfully. "Oh… How did you die?" Bree asked, somewhat confused.

Myrtle looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I died."

"How?" Bree pressed.

"I don't know," Myrtle said in a hushed tone. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" She looked dreamily at Bree. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"One pair of yellow eyes." Bree stated.

"Yes." answered Myrtle. Bree smiled, spiders had eight eyes. "Thank for your help. I need to go to the library now." And with that Bree left.

* * *

Days later, on February Fourteenth, Bree walked into the Great Hall, blinked, rubbed her eyes, and promptly walked out again. Then she decided that she really wanted breakfast and came back in, trying hard not to look at the pink flowers covering the walls, the heart-shaped confetti that was falling from the pale ceiling, or a Lockhart who was wearing pink robes. She went over to the Gryffindor table, sat down as stared at the food, glaring at anyone who tried to talk to her.

Lockhart was waved for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where he sat, Bree could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though he was in pain.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all, and it doesn't end here!"

"_Just die already!" _Bree thought as she glared at him.

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"_I miss Quirrel. He may have had Voldemort in the back of his head, but at least he didn't do things like this." _Bree thought as she made herself a sandwich out of toast, eggs, and bacon, then quickly got out of the pink hell.

* * *

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with Harry.

"Oi, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

Harry tried to escape. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.

Bree tried to help Harry, but at the same time she didn't want to get ink on her hands.

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, desperate to get away before Malfoy could hear his musical valentine.

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard,

I wish he was mine,

he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord

Bree twitched. _"There are so many things that his eyes could have been compared to, why pick the most disgusting one?"_

Harry, looking mortified, got up, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooing some of the younger students away. Bree went on her way not seeing Malfoy pick up a diary.

* * *

**And that's all for this for this chapter.**

**Review please!**


	11. Year Two: The One Without a Title

**So in the last chapter Bbybeckzi caught that I've been copying some stuff from the book, like the thing with Riddle's memory, the reason for this, I didn't write the original book, I can't remember everything word for word, and I want to keep events as accurate as I can so I don't have anyone saying "That didn't happen what happened was…" You see even if it's helpful, I don't like criticism because I mentally go "Oh no, I made a mistake! I'm a failure as a human being!" and then I fix it and upload the whole chapter again even if it was only one misspelled word….Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, right, yeah so since I'm copying some of the events, I sometimes forget to change the pronouns, sorry if that confused anyone.**

**Now I suppose you might be wondering This is a fan fiction, aren't events supposed to change?" and the answer to that is "Not right now. The major changes will come when the books start killing off the characters I like(Darn it Rowling. Why'd you have to off all of the good Marauders? Why?) so until that point all that's going to happen with Bree is that there will be some rather minor changes to events and there with be new scenes in which she causes new rules to be written.**

**To peltra: No, Malfoy's not getting possessed, but the next part was the scene where Ginny finds out that Harry has the diary because Draco taunts Harry about the diary and I didn't want Bree to see it because she'd be like "Hey that book is supposed to be ashes in the fire place." but I still wanted to show that Harry had indeed recovered the diary from the fireplace. If you read that chapter in the book you'll find that Harry got the diary back from Draco by using a disarming spell.**

* * *

It was March. Bree was bored, and as you readers have probably figured out by now, a bored Bree is not a good thing. As it was getting close to St. Patrick's day she decided to do something… festive.

"You want me to what?" Seamus Finnegan asked incredulously.

"You heard me. I'll pay you." Bree answered.

"How much?" Seamus inquired.

Bree sighed. "How much you want?"

"Two galleons." answered Seamus.

"Only if you spill something on Ernie Mcmillian." Bree responded.

"Alright." Seamus agreed.

* * *

Later that day, Seamus, who was wearing a Leprechaun outfit, Bree, and a gaggle of first years were gathered in McGonagall's office.

"Whose idea was this?" McGonagall asked tensely. Seamus and the first years pointed at Bree.

"Of course." McGonagall muttered to her self, then to Bree she said "Why did you think this was a good idea?"

"I didn't. I thought it was a funny idea." Bree answered. McGonagall sighed. "Detention, all of you."

* * *

9. I'm not allowed to pay Seamus Finnegan to run through the Great Hall in a leprechaun outfit, holding a box a cereal, yelling "They're after me Lucky Charms!"

- Especially if I pay first years to chase him.

(For more information on this incident refer to chapter 14 of "88 rules for a peaceful Hogwarts experience, which is now nearly at the 600 rule mark)

* * *

Bree was spending an unusual amount of time in the library, much to the horror of the twins, who feared that Hermione was rubbing off on her. She been through almost every book about magical creatures she could find and hadn't found any creatures with two big yellow eyes that could petrify and/or kill. But she had determined that the creature she saw in the memory was an acromantula, a baby one. After days of fruitless searching she decided to take a break by going to the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

The teams had barely stepped onto the field when McGonagall came out and announced that the match was cancelled and that all students should return to their dorms. Bree found out later that Hermione and a fifth year Ravenclaw prefect had been attacked. Even worse news came later. Hagrid had been arrested and Dumbledore had been suspended by the board of governors.

Fear spread throughout the school and no student was allowed to wander off on their own. Bree managed to get some books from the library to read in her dorm. She thought she had nearly found the answer, but the page had been ripped out.

* * *

Draco Malfoy seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the atmosphere of terror and suspicion.

It wasn't clear what he was so happy about until two weeks after Dumbledore had left the school, in potions class.

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he said to Crabbe and Goyle, not even trying to keep his voice down.

Bree, who had been in front of Malfoy, turned to him and inquired "Your Father, he's the one with the pimp cane right?"

"The what?" Malfoy asked.

"The pimp cane. It is kind of long. I wonder if it's compensating for something…" she said somewhat absently.

"What's a pimp cane?" Malfoy questioned.

"Do you know what a pimp is? No. Well you need to know what that is before I can tell you what a pimp cane is and"

Snape suddenly interrupted Bree. "Detention, Miss Smith." he stated coolly.

* * *

152. Lucious Malfoy's pimp cane is not "compensating for something."

153. Lucious Malfoy's cane is just a cane.

* * *

The next class was Herbology. Professor Sprout set them all to work pruning the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs. Bree overheard Ernie Macmillan apologize to Harry for suspecting him of being the Heir of Slytherin. Harry forgave him. Bree was less kind.

"Oh so you've made amends now." Bree said to Ernie. "I guess I'll tell the house elves to stop doing questionable things to you in your sleep then." Ernie went pale. "What?" he questioned in a meek voice. "She's just joking." Harry assured the Hufflepuff.

"You are just joking right?" he asked Bree as she began walking away. "Bree tell him you're joking. Bree!"

* * *

It was getting close to exam time and Bree wasn't able to cause any chaos at all, she was never alone to do anything.

About three days before exams McGonagall's voice echoed through the corridors. "All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Bree returned to her common room. No one knew what had happened, but thought that it must have been another attack. Professor McGonagall came and told them all what had happened; Ginny Weasley had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets. The students would all be sent home the next day.

It was one of the worst days of Bree's entire life. She didn't know whether to cry or be sick, instead she just sat quietly in a corner of the common room with Ron, Harry, Fred, and George. Percy had sent a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley then had tried to shut himself up in his dorm, but Bree had dragged him over to where is brothers were and muttered something about family needing to stay together at times like this before going up to her dorm to sleep.

Hours later Bree was roused from a peaceful slumber and was led to the Great Hall by Lavender Brown. When they got there Bree, still half asleep was a bit confused. There was a feast going on, but everyone was in their pajamas. She soon found out that Ginny Weasley had been rescued from the Chamber, Dumbledore had returned, the attacker had been found(Voldemort by way of a cursed diary), Lucious Malfoy had been kicked of the board of governors, Lockhart would no longer be teaching due to a backfired memory charm, and the exams had been cancelled. The celebration all night. At one point Harry came over to talk to Bree.

"Um Bree…" Harry began uncertainly "When I was in the Chamber, Riddle's memory said that you had found the diary. He said that he had tried to gain your trust but you knew he was lying so you chucked the diary in the fire. How did you know?"

Bree sighed. "In the memory, Hagrid was keeping a giant spider. Spider's don't petrify people. And he doesn't have anything against muggleborns, he doesn't speak to snakes, so he wasn't a likely candidate for the Heir of Slytherin, and frankly he's not smart enough to have planned the whole thing out." she explained.

"Oh, um…why didn't you tell anyone about the diary, since you knew it lied?" Harry asked.

"I was mad at it. I don't like being lied to, especially not by a book. By the time I thought of telling someone it appeared that all the proof I had that I wasn't making it up had burned to ash." Bree answered.

* * *

The rest of the term passed quickly. Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Bree, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny got a compartment to themselves. They made the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George's Filibuster fireworks(Bree was keeping hers to use over the summer), and practiced disarming each other by magic. Harry was getting very good at it.

They were almost at King's Cross when Harry remembered something.

"Ginny, what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"

"Oh, that," said Ginny, giggling. "Well, Percy's got a girlfriend."

"Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head.

"What?"

"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," Ginny stated.

"That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was, you know, attacked. You won't tease him, will you?" she added anxiously.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early.

"Definitely not," said George, sniggering.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped.

Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Ron and Hermione.

"This is called a telephone number," he told Ron, scribbling it twice, tearing the parchment in two, and handing it to them. "I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer, he'll know. Call me at the Dursleys', okay? I can't stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to…"

"Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" Hermione asked as they got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you did this year?"

"Proud?" said Harry. "Are you crazy? All those times I could've died, and I didn't manage it? They'll be furious…"

Bree heard this and was already plotting when she exited the barrier.

* * *

**And so ends year two. Year three will be next, of course. I'm recently taken on a themes challenge that allows me to use OC's so look for Bree in my newest story, called "Harry Potter Themes."**

**Review please!**


	12. Year Three: Bree Hates the Dursley's

Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine. The characters of the Harry Potter series are not.

* * *

Bree's summer started off eventfully. The cat died, it was nearly fourteen years old and had a bad kidney, so her parents were arranging to get one of the kittens that her Aunt had found in her barn. Also, she almost violated the Statute of Secrecy when her schoolbooks came tumbling out of the closet when her sitter, Chloe Fisk, was there. Fortunately it turned out that Chloe was a muggleborn witch. Chloe was babysitting to earn money for college. She was going to college, despite having completed her magical education, because her parents had wanted her to have both a magical and muggle education. Bree's parent thought that this was a wonderful idea and so Chloe was asked to become her tutor.

One day, after a frustrating math lesson for both Bree and Chloe, Bree took one of the dogs, Roman a larger than average German Sheppard who was also a trained guard dog, for a walk. Bree told Chloe exactly where she was going (Pivet drive to visit Harry) then she left the house.

Walking alone with Roman made Bree a rather odd sight. Roman was about waist high to her, but while he could have easily dragged her wherever he wanted to go, he stuck protectively close to her side. It had been like this since her family had gotten him, he had apparently decided that Bree was the most vulnerable being in the house and therefore needed the most protection.

When Bree arrived at Number 4 Pivet Drive she found Harry outside weeding the flowers that lined the front walkway. Harry didn't notice her right away, but he did notice when Roman began sniffing him. Harry looked up, saw the huge dog looming over him and fell over backwards. Bree giggled causing Harry to look at her. "It wasn't funny." he said as he got up and brushed dirt off of his pants. Bree frowned when she caught sight of his ill fitting hand-me-downs.

"Roman, sitzen." she commanded. The large German Sheppard obligingly sat down. At Harry's perplexed look Bree explained "Some of his commands are in German."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked after staring a Roman for a moment.

"I needed a break from my lessons." Bree stated.

"Lessons?" Harry questioned.

"My sitter turned out it be a witch. She going to college 'cause her parents want her to have both muggle and magical education. My parents thought it was a good idea. We just finished a math lesson. Math is evil." Bree responded.

"So what's new?" she asked Harry cheerily.

"Ron called me the other day." Harry answered.

Bree smirked. "And how did that go?" she inquired in a knowing tone.

"He, er, well he shouted, to make sure he could be heard I guess. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon weren't happy." Harry answered. Suddenly the front door slammed open. A very fat man who looked as if he were one cheeseburger away from a heart attack came waddling out in a fury, something Bree thought to be a rather amusing sight.

"BOY! WHAT DID TELL YOU ABOUT TALKING TO THE NEIGHBORS!" the man, who Bree figured was Vernon, shouted, causing Roman to go on alert. Vernon backed off a bit when he saw the intimidating dog.

Bree smiled sweetly. "Sir, you seem to have made a mistake, firstly, it was I who stopped to talk to Harry, and secondly," here Bree's eyes took on a darker more malevolent look while her smile remained, "I am not your neighbor."

Vernon gulped. The dark look on Bree's face along with the large, ready to strike should the command be given, dog made for an menacing sight. "I-I see, well c-carry on then." Vernon stuttered out as he backed into the house. Once he was gone Bree turned to Harry, a true smile on her face. "He's not my neighbor so I don't have to get along with him." she explained.

* * *

For the next few weeks things got into a bit of routine. Bree would walk with Roman to Number Four Pivet Drive to talk to Harry. If Harry wasn't outside she would sit on the curb across the street and grin malevolently at whoever came out of the house, or looked out the window, until Harry came out.

* * *

395. Not allowed to sit in across the street from the Dursley's house, with a very large German Sheppard, and grin demonically every time one of them comes out of the house.

* * *

On Harry's birthday Bree headed out early. When she got to the Dursley's house she saw Vernon storm out of the house. She grinned at him. He quickly got into his car and sped away. For the first, Bree went up to the front door and knocked, instead of waiting on the curb. Petunia answered.

"Oh it's you." she sniffed disdainfully. "Boy, get down here!" she called. Harry came down the stairs. "You have a visitor." Petunia said bitterly. Harry stepped out to talk to Bree, Petunia slammed the down behind him.

"Happy Birthday, Harry." Bree said as she handed him a card. Harry opened it and found a small glass ladybug taped to the inside of it.

"It's supposed to be lucky, and you seem to need all the luck you can get." Bree explained. Harry smiled. "Thanks." he said.

"Did you hear about the escaped convict, Sirius Black?" Bree asked suddenly.

Harry nodded. "I caught the end of the news story when I came down this morning, but I only heard his last name."

"He's a wizard. Got out of Azkaban. The minister is catching a lot of flak for telling the muggle Prime Minister about him." Bree stated.

Harry looked surprised. Bree checked her watch. "See you later Harry. I gotta go get ready for my lessons." and with that Bree left.

* * *

The next day when Bree walked by a bulldog dashed out of the Dursley's yard and attempted to attack Roman. The bulldog quickly ran back to the Dursley's after it got a snap from Roman and a kick from Bree.

"How dare you assault my dog!" a female version of Vernon shouted. Roman went on the alert.

"It was your dog that attempted to assault me. I'm on a public street, out for a walk, when your dog came charging out of no where. You're really lucky your dog didn't bite me or I'd have no choice but to bring the law down on your head. I still might, because your dog should definitely be on a leash." Bree paused to give Roman a command. "Roman, drop." the dog immediately lay down on the ground. The female version of Vernon was red in the face, she was about to speak when Bree cut her off.

"I'm here to talk to Harry. If you get him for me I won't call the police, this time." Bree stated.

Female Vernon stomped back inside, taking her dog with her. About a minute later, Harry came out.

"Who, or what, was that?" Bree asked as soon as he was within earshot.

"Aunt Marge. She's Uncle Vernon's sister. She's visiting this week." Harry explained.

"Tell her I walk by here everyday and if her dog attacks me again, I will call the police and animal control.

They chatted for a few more minutes, then Bree went on her way.

* * *

A few days later, Harry was no longer at Number 4 Pivet Drive. He sent Bree a letter telling her not to go by there for the rest of the summer because he was staying at the leaky caldron for the next two weeks. Bree saw this as an opportunity to create some trouble for the Dursley's. She didn't do anything to bad to them while Harry was there for fear that he would get caught up in it, but now that he was gone…

Bree obtained several bags of fertilizer, through questionable, but undetectable means. Planted the bags in the Dursley's back yard, and called in an anonymous tip from a payphone.

* * *

287. Not allowed to plant large amounts of fertilizer at the Dursley's and call in a terrorist threat.

* * *

Petunia and Vernon were arrested, and spent the next few days being questioned. They weren't charged with anything, and released, but the police still kept an eye on them.

* * *

I wasn't originally planning on having Bree live so close to the Dursley's, but it makes it easier for her to torment them. Oh, and Bree's dog Roman is based off of a dog my parents got after someone tried to break into our house. He was intimidating because of his size, professionally trained to be a guard dog, and people often went to the other side of the street when we walked him, but he was a big softy and very affectionate. He died of cancer a few years ago. I miss him and putting him in the story lets me relive the memories. And while not stated in this chapter, her family has another dog, but Bree doesn't walk her 'cause she pulls on the leash.

Review Please!


	13. Year Three: Don't abuse books

**Disclaimer: Bree and the list, and Bree's sitter and any other characters that only exist because of Bree are mine, the rest is not.**

* * *

The week before school started Bree went to Diagon alley with her mother to get her school things. It was rather uneventful until she got the Monster Book of Monsters. It had tried to bite her. This had caused her to slam the book against the counter repeatedly while shouting "Bad book! Bad! No biting!" until the book had stopped trying to gnaw her hands off. Then Bree had started petting the book, (That's a good book, there's no need to be mean… Hey look! It really likes it when you pet it's spine!) thus solving the shopkeeper's dilemma on how to handle the ferocious books.

* * *

When Bree got on the Hogwarts Express on September first she did so with a new addition to he usual luggage. In a cat carrier she had a long haired, gray tabby that her Aunt had dubbed Muffin. Bree had tried to change her name to something more dignified, but her mother wouldn't allow it. This was because Bree kept picking Ancient Greek names that had far to many S's to be pronounceable.

Bree found a compartment on the train, sat near the window, closed her eyes, and tried to nap. Her new cat had kept her up most of the night by attacking her feet, although, it was an improvement, when Muffin had first arrived at Bree's house it was two days before she would come out from under the bed.

It wasn't long until the twins found her.

"Don't even think about it." Bree said without opening her eyes, just as Fred was about to draw on her face.

"I thought you were asleep." Fred stated.

Bree opened her eyes. "Who could sleep with you two around?" she said.

The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery outside the window became wilder and darker while the clouds overhead thickened overhead. I began to rain. The rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks.

Bree was playing Exploding Snap with the twins, when the train began to slow down. The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

Bree looked out the window. Through the darkness and the rain she could see black forms moving. Someone came crashing into the compartment. "Lumos!." Bree's spell lit up the compartment. "Malfoy! What are you doing here!" she snarled as soon as she saw the blond boy in a heap on the floor.

"I was j-just" he began.

"Move. I'm going to see what's going on." Bree interrupted. She went out the door, and had only just turned toward the front of the train when she encountered a black cloaked figure. It towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood.

And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold spread through the area. Bree felt it right down to her core.

Bree's worst memories started drifting through her mind. The thing got closer, it' face only inches from Bree's and… George grabbed Bree by the arm and pulled her back into the compartment and shut the door. Bree sat down. She focused on breathing and getting warm until the lights came back on and the train started moving.

"What was that?" Bree asked in a whisper. Draco sneered. "You don't even know what a dementor is mu-" he was interrupted by Bree standing up and yelling "Just get out, you filthy little bastard!" she waved her wand in his face. Malfoy backed out of the compartment. Bree sat back down.

"What's a dementor?" she questioned.

"Dementors are the guards of Azkaban." Fred explained.

"They suck all the happiness out of you." George continued.

"They were probably searching the train for Sirius Black." Fred concluded.

Bree was silent for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Bree paid little attention to the sorting. Once it was over Dumbledore stood up to make an announcement.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises, or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a Dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from, puffed out his chest and stared around impressively. Dumbledore paused again; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Professor Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his game keeping duties."

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink.

* * *

Bree was the last one up to the dorm. She seemed happier than she had been at the feast.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked.

I set a new record. I sufficiently traumatized all of the Gryffindor First Years and we haven't even had our first class yet." Bree said excitedly.

Hermione sighed.

* * *

233. Not allowed to greet new students by saying "Welcome to hell. There is no escape. Muahahahahaha!"

(For more about this rule see chapter 14 of "88 rules for a peaceful Hogwarts experience.")

* * *

The first thing Bree saw she went to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning was Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter**.**

"They're laughing at you, not with you." Bree stated as she passed. She got to the table in time to hear Harry say "You didn't pass out, though, did you?" to George.

"No. But I froze up and George had to pull me back into the compartment." she said as she sat down next to Fred.

"Why were you outside the compartment?" Hermione asked.

"I wanted to see what was going on." Bree explained.

"Oh, but it was pitch black, how did you see?" the bushy haired girl inquired.

Bree gave Hermione a blank stare, before saying one word that explained it all. "Lumos."

Hermione flushed red, apparently she hadn't thought of it herself.

* * *

The First class was Divination.

"Do you think I should have brought my own goat?" Bree asked Hermione ask they walked to class.

"What?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"For the sacrifice to the pagan gods so that I may open my inner eye and see the future." Bree explained with exaggerated hand movements.

"What on earth have you been reading!" Hermione exclaimed.

* * *

77. Divination does not require that I sacrifice a goat.

* * *

The Divination classroom didn't look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone's attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.

A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.

"Welcome," it said. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs.

"Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had seated herself in a winged armchair in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything to this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued, "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you… Books can take you only so far in this field…"

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,"

Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to nervous face. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she said suddenly to Neville, who almost toppled off his pouf. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," said Neville tremulously.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," said Professor Trelawney, the firelight glinting on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped. Professor Trelawney continued placidly.

"We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," she shot suddenly at Parvati Patil, "beware a red-haired man."

Parvati gave a startled look at Ron, who was right behind her and edged her chair away from him.

"In the second term," Professor Trelawney went on, "we shall progress to the crystal ball, if we have finished with fire omens, that is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us for ever."

A very tense silence followed this pronouncement, but Professor Trelawney seemed unaware of it.

"I wonder, dear," she said to Lavender Brown, who was nearest and shrank back in her chair, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender, looking relieved, stood up, took an enormous teapot from the shelf, and put it down on the table in front of Professor Trelawney.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading, it will happen on Friday the sixteenth of October."

Lavender trembled.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns using pages five and six of Unfogging the Future. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear," she caught Neville by the arm as he made to stand up, "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, Neville had no sooner reached the shelf of teacups when there was a tinkle of breaking china. Professor Trelawney swept over to him holding a dustpan and brush and said, "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind… thank you…"

Bree waited for the tea to cool off a bit, downed it quickly, then drained it and swapped with Hermione. Bree went first.

"Well this looks like an animal… um maybe an alligator. Oh that's not good. Personal distress possibly caused by people close to you along with mental disturbance and worry." Bree stated. Hermione didn't look very worried.

"Right then," Bree continued "you also have… an open book. It means you have a desire for information."

Hermione rolled her eyes a looked at Bree's cup. "You have an arch, which mean a journey abroad, and a beehive, that's a symbol of eloquence, mental capacity, and much energy in forming new schemes and carrying them through." Hermione was apparently quoting the book.

They were distracted when Professor Trelawney took Harry's cup from Ron.

Professor Trelawney was staring into the teacup, rotating it counterclockwise.

"The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"But everyone knows that," said Hermione in a loud whisper. Professor Trelawney stared at her.

"Well, they do," said Hermione. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Professor Trelawney chose not to reply. She lowered her huge eyes to Harry's cup again and continued to turn it.

"The club… an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…"

"I thought that was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"The skull… danger in your path, my dear…"

Everyone was staring, transfixed, at Professor Trelawney, who gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and then screamed.

There was another tinkle of breaking china; Neville had smashed his second cup. Professor Trelawney sank into a vacant armchair, her glittering hand at her heart and her eyes closed.

"My dear boy, my poor dear boy, no, it is kinder not to say, no, don't ask me…"

"What is it, Professor?" said Dean Thomas at once. Everyone had got to their feet, and slowly they crowded around Harry and Ron's table, pressing close to Professor Trelawney's chair to get a good look at Harry's cup.

"My dear," Professor Trelawney's huge eyes opened dramatically, "you have the Grim."

"The what?" said Harry.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked shocked that

Harry hadn't understood. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen, the worst omen, of death!"

Bree burst out laughing. "Professor," she began once she had calmed down, "a Grim is nothing more then the guardians of Churches." she explained.

"My dear that my be the muggle explanation but" "Do you know how a Grim is created?" Bree interrupted before Trelawney.

"Excuse me?" Trelawney said, confused."

"Do you know how a Grim is created?" Bree asked again. Receiving no answer she continued. "I do. Back in the early days of the church, in places like Britain and Scandinavia, a black dog would be buried alive on the north side of the grounds of a newly built church, in order to create a guardian to protect the church from the devil. Now if you had said that you saw something like Cŵn Annwn, Black Shuck, or a Cù Sìth in Harry's cup, I might have believed you."

"That's disturbing." Seamus Finnegan said, commenting on how a Grim was made.

Bree smirked. "That's nothing. I haven't even told you how inugami a created." she stated.

"I think we will leave the lesson here for today," said Professor Trelawney in her mistiest voice. "Yes… please pack away your things…"

Silently the class took their teacups back to Professor Trelawney, packed away their books, and closed their bags.

"Until we meet again," said Professor Trelawney faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear," she pointed at Neville, "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

* * *

Professor McGonagall's transfiguration lesson was about animagi. That is, wizards that turn into animals. No one but Bree was really paying attention when she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has got into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harry, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and —"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," said Harry, finally.

"I see," said Professor McGonagall, fixing Harry with her beady eyes. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybil Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues —" Professor McGonagall broke off.

She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney…" She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

* * *

"Bree, tell Harry just how bad it is to have seen a black dog. Even if you don't believe in the Grim there's still that koo sith and Black Shuck you talked about." Ron requested at lunch. Bree stared at him.

"A Cŵn Annwn you have to hear. Black Shuck just scares you, or signals the death of a family member. Sometimes it's reported to have accompanied women on their way home as a guardian. Cù Sìth are dark green in Scotland, and black in Ireland and the Irish ones have glowing eyes." she explained. Ron was about to say something else about it, but Bree decided she had had enough of death omens, and left.

* * *

It was nice to be outside after lunch. Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as Bree set off for her first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

Bree good mood died an early death when she realized that she had this class with the Slytherins.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" he called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

Hagrid strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock. There was nothing in there.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's it, make sure yeh can see, now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books"

"How?" said the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.

"Pet the spine. Idiot." Bree, who already had her book open, snapped at the boy. Several others had their books open as well and those who had been restraining their books with belts and spellotape quickly followed their example.

"Righ' then," said Hagrid, who seemed to have lost his thread, "so — so yeh've got yer books an'… an'… now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on…"

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight.

"God, this place is going to the dogs," said Malfoy loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father will have a fit when I tell him."

"Too bad there's nothing that pimp wannabe can do about it. He's not on the board of governors anymore, remember." Bree said in an annoyed tone.

"Oooooooh!" squealed Lavender Brown, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Trotting toward them were a dozen odd creatures. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with cruel, steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly, orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood. Everyone drew back slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

each Hippogriff was a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer…"

No one seemed to want to. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Bree, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening; they were talking in an undertone and Bree felt that they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

"Yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"Right, who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Even Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Bree had misgivings. The Hippogriffs were tossing their fierce heads and flexing their powerful wings; they didn't seem to like being tethered like this.

"Harry will do it." Bree declared as she shoved the boy forward.

"Good man, Harry!" roared Hagrid as Harry claimed over the fence. "Right then — let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untied one of the chains, pulled the gray Hippogriff away from its fellows, and slipped off its leather collar. The class on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding its breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously.

"Easy now, Harry," said Hagrid quietly. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…"

Buckbeak had turned his great, sharp head and was staring at Harry with one fierce orange eye. "Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Harry… now, bow."

He gave a short bow and then looked up.

The Hippogriff was still staring haughtily at him. It didn't move.

"Ah," said Hagrid, sounding worried. "Right, back away, now, Harry, easy does it."

But then, the Hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Harry!" said Hagrid, ecstatic. "Right, yeh can touch him! Pat his beak, go on!"

Harry moved slowly toward the Hippogriff and reached out toward it. He patted the beak several times and the Hippogriff closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it.

The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Harry," said Hagrid. "I reckon he migh' let yeh ride him!"

"Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint," said Hagrid, "an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…"

Harry put his foot on the top of Buckbeak's wing and hoisted himself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up.

"Go on, then!" roared Hagrid, slapping the Hippogriffs hindquarters.

Without warning, twelve-foot wings flapped open on either side of Harry, he just had time to seize the Hippogriff around the neck before he was soaring upward.

"Good work, Harry!" roared Hagrid as everyone except Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle cheered once Harry and Buckbeak had landed. "Okay, who else wants a go?"

Emboldened by Harry's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the Hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. Bree was with them in order to make sure that they didn't do anything stupid. Buckbeak had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Harry to, hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. Bree got ready to interfere. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened quickly. Bree tackled Malfoy just as talons came down. In a moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy. Draco moaned pitifully, "My back, I think it's broken." Bree ignored him in favor of addressing the deep gash she now sported. It started at the collar, going diagonally all the way across her shoulder. She put her hand over it to stanch the flow of blood, and "accidentally" kicked Malfoy in a certain area as she made her to the gate of the paddock.

"Someone want to open this for me?" Bree questioned, looking pale.

Hermione ran to hold open the gate. Bree stumbled as she began to feel light headed. Hagrid picked her up and rushed her to the hospital wing.

* * *

In the hospital wing, Bree was getting fed up with Malfoy moaning about his back, and so was Madame Pomfrey.

"You can go back to your dorm now." she stated.

"But my back." Malfoy groaned.

"You're fine! Now get out and stop disturbing my patient!" the nurse shouted. Draco fled. Bree was stuck spending the night in the hospital wing.

* * *

**That's all for this chapter. If you want more Bree you can check out my new Harry Potter themes story. She appears in some of the oneshots there.**

**Review Please!**


	14. Year Three: Boggarts are scary

**To InsaneGummiBears: Sorry, I didn't mean to offend anyone with the goat thing, but I'm studying Western Civilization, specifically Ancient Rome, and by Ancient Roman standard a Pagan is someone who doesn't worship the Roman gods, I'm sorry to say I don't know much about modern pagans, but in the ancient world just about everybody was sacrificing some kind of animal in order to appease their gods so that's where Bree was coming from with that that whole goat thing, the rest about the inner eye opening was made up because I haven't studied much about ancient religious rituals, my classes that I've taken have focused more on how we got from nomads to modern civilization, with little mention of the religion at the time. So again I'm sorry, and I should have specified what I was talking about in that last chapter, and please remember that this isn't really meant to be taken seriously.**

* * *

Bree woke up early the next morning, or very late that night, it was hard to tell, with the feeling that there was something on her. She opened her eyes, and found her sixth month old kitten, Muffin, laying on her chest, purring.

"Why are you here?" Bree asked.

Muffin's only response was purring louder.

Bree sighed. "Right, well, I'm going back to sleep then." and so she did.

* * *

Hours later, Bree was allowed out of the hospital wing, there was no trace of her previous injury, except for some pink scars that peeked out from beneath her the collar of her shirt. Madame Promfrey assured her that the scars would fade.

When Bree got down to the Great Hall she found Draco complaining about his back and telling his house mates about how "the vicious hippogriff" attacked him for no reason.

"That's a load of BS and you know it Malfoy!" Bree shouted. "Buckbeak wouldn't have attacked you if you had listened to Hagrid at not insulted him! But no. You thought you knew better than the teacher!" Bree ranted.

"I…you" Draco stammered, the suddenness of Bree's appearance along with the fact the he had caught sight of her scars made it difficult for him to form a sentence. Bree cut him off.

"You know what? You're annoying, therefore, you forfeit the right to breath! Do you want to be strangled with your tie, smothered with a pillow, or should I go find a plastic bag!"

"That's enough, Miss Smith." interjected Professor McGonagall. "You have every right to be angry with Mr. Malfoy, but that doesn't give you the right to threaten him. Five points from Gryffindor."

Bree frowned and headed over to the Gryffindor table. McGonagall turned to Malfoy. "I hear you have yet to be punished for your actions yesterday," she began. "Ten points from Slytherin for failure to listen to a teachers instructions, twenty points for endangering the life of another student, and your head of house will see to your detention."

* * *

300. Annoying people do not forfeit the right to breathe.

* * *

Bree shoulder was a little sore over the next few days. She only complained about it when Malfoy was around, but really the worst problem caused by her injury was overly concerned people (Percy, Hermione, random Hufflepuffs, and, surprisingly, the twins) asking her if she was alright and if they could help her in any way. Usually the was "No I'm fine" except to the twins then the answer was "Go prank Draco." Needless to say, Draco was not having a good week.

* * *

Thursday afternoon was the first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year. Professor Lupin wasn't there when the students arrived at his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books. They had never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts class before, unless you counted the memorable class last year when their old teacher had brought a cageful of pixies to class and set them loose. Bree didn't.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin, when everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Puzzled but interested, the class got to its feet and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. He led them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin"

Rude and unmanageable as he almost always was, Peeves usually showed some respect toward the teachers. Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin to see how he would take this; to their surprise, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," he said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Filch was the Hogwarts caretaker, a bad-tempered, failed wizard who waged a constant war against the students and, indeed, Peeves. However, Peeves paid no attention to

Professor Lupin's words, except to blow a loud wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand.

"This is a useful little spell," he told the class over his shoulder. "Please watch closely."

He raised the wand to shoulder height, said, "Waddiwasi!" and pointed it at Peeves.

With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril; he whirled upright and zoomed away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?"

They set off again, the class looking at shabby Professor Lupin with increased respect. He led them down a second corridor and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

"Inside, please," said Professor Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said,

"Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows.

"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, even redder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now, then," said Professor Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped backward in alarm. "There's a Boggart in there."

Most people seemed to feel that this was something to worry about. Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror, and Seamus Finnigan eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said Professor Lupin. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks — I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock. This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?"

Hermione put up her hand.

"It's a shape-shifter," she said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "So the Boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

"This means," said Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "that we have a huge advantage over the Boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

"Er — because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?" Harry answered.

"Precisely." stated. Professor Lupin, "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a Boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that very mistake, tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

The charm that repels a Boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that really finishes a Boggart is laughter. What you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… riddikulus!"

"Riddikulus!" said the class together.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he were heading for the gallows.

"Right, Neville," said Professor Lupin. "First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"I didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely more than a whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful.

"Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er , yes," said Neville nervously. "But, I don't want the Boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, you misunderstand me," said Professor Lupin, now smiling. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled, but said, "Well… always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" prompted Professor Lupin.

"A big red one," said Neville.

"Right then," said Professor Lupin. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes." Neville answered uncertainty, plainly wondering what was coming next.

"When the Boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," said Lupin. "And you will raise your wand, thus, and cry 'Riddikulus' and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter. The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the Boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," said Professor Lupin. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…"

The room went quiet.

Bree thought about what scared her most. Normalcy? No, that wasn't quite it. Herself being a normal person? No, like she'd ever be normal. Her friends as normal people? That was it. Without abnormal people Bree wouldn't have any friends.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin.

Harry felt a lurch of fear. He wasn't ready. How could you make a Dementor less frightening? But he didn't want to ask for more time; everyone else was nodding and rolling up their sleeves.

"Neville, we're going to back away," said Professor Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward… Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot."

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," said Professor Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One, two, three, now!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville.

Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

"R-r-riddikulus! " squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the Boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted,

"Parvati! Forward!"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a bloodstained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising.

"Riddikulus!" cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet, it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Professor Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati.

Crack! Where the mummy had been was a woman with floorlength black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face, a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room, a long, wailing shriek.

"Riddikulus!" shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat, her voice was gone.

"Bree!"

Crack! At first glance it looked like the boggart had transformed into Percy, however if one were to look closer, you'd be able to tell it was one of the twins, wearing a prefect badge and Percy's glasses.

"Riddikulus!" the boggart twin was now bright pink.

Crack! The boggart turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then -crack!- became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before - crack! -becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

"It's confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"

Dean hurried forward.

Crack! The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"Riddikulus!" yelled Dean.

There was a snap, and the hand was trapped in a mousetrap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next!"

Ron leapt forward.

Crack!

Quite a few people screamed. A giant spider, six feet tall and covered in hair, was advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly.

"Riddikulus!" bellowed Ron, and the spider's legs vanished; it rolled over and over; Lavender Brown squealed and ran out of its way and it came to a halt at Harry's feet. He raised his wand, ready, but —

"Here!" shouted Professor Lupin suddenly, hurrying forward. Crack!

The legless spider had vanished. For a second, everyone looked wildly around to see where it was. Then they saw a silvery-white orb hanging in the air in front of Lupin, who said, "Riddikulus!" almost lazily.

Crack!

"Forward, Neville, and finish him off!" said Lupin as the Boggart landed on the floor as a cockroach. Crack! Snape was back. This time Neville charged forward looking determined.

"Riddikulus!" he shouted, and they had a split second's view of Snape in his lacy dress before Neville let out a great "Ha!" of laughter, and the Boggart exploded, burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone.

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin as the class broke into applause. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone… Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart — ten for Neville because he did it twice… and five each to Hermione and Harry."

"But I didn't do anything," said Harry.

"You and Hermione answered my questions correctly at the start of the class, Harry," Lupin said lightly. "Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. Homework, kindly read the chapter on Boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

Talking excitedly, the class left the staffroom.

"Did you see me take that banshee?" shouted Seamus.

"And the hand!" said Dean, waving his own around.

"And Snape in that hat!"

"And my mummy!"

"I wonder why Professor Lupin's frightened of crystal balls?" said Lavender thoughtfully.

Bree twitched. "_That was the moon you idiot. Crystall balls don't float, or glow_." she thought to herself as she went back to the classroom to get her bag.

* * *

**So in chapter 23 of my 88 rules fic (which has now amassed to well over 600 rules, maybe I should change the name…) I asked what Bree's boggart should be. One suggestion was for an "anti-Bree" and I thought no, she'd never be normal. Another suggestion was normalcy, but I wasn't sure how a boggart would manifest that. Then I saw that someone suggested it being her friends getting her, and I was like "Idea! If her friends were normal…" and that's how I came up with Bree's boggart.**

**Review please. **


	15. Year Three: What's your zombie plan?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own any zombies.

* * *

The next day found Bree sitting in the common room. She was meticulously polishing an object, but it seemed as if she couldn't get it meet her standards for shininess. Percy walked in, fuming

"I know it's your fault." he said as soon as he saw Bree.

"What is?" Bree asked, any number of things could be her fault on any given day. A first year came in, saw Percy, hugged him tightly, which caused the seventh year to go stiff. The first year released him then left. "That. I know you're responsible for that." Percy growled.

"Oh _that_." Bree said as she stood up, having given up on making the object shinier than it already was. She pinned it to Percy's chest, it turned out to be his head boy badge. Percy wasn't even sure how she had gotten it and was about to ask when she began talking again.

"Well you see, the twins and I were talking the other day and we decided that you need to loosen up a bit, and hiring prostitutes is illegal, so, first years!" Bree explained cheerily.

"Well you need to get them to… what was that about prostitutes?" Percy asked. Bree grinned and left the common room.

* * *

454. Not allowed to steal Percy's head boy badge.

486. Bribing first years to hug Percy Weasley is wrong.

487. Percy does not need a hug.

- nor does he need to "get laid."

* * *

Towards the end of September, Bree decided that Divination was utterly useless. Having made this decision she decided to have some fun.

"Oh dear." she gasped, leaning back into her armchair while clutching at her chest. This of course caught Professor Trelawney's attention.

"What is it child? What?" she questioned. Bree wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Well it's just… I'm going to be dead by next week." the blond explained.

"Oh, you poor child." Trelawney gasped.

Bree sniffed and pretended to cry. "I was just wondering, since I just predicted my own death and would like to enjoy the time I have left, may I leave class early today?" she asked.

"Of course, child, of course, and you are excused from the few classes I will be teaching between now and your untimely demise." Trelawney declared.

Hermione glared as Bree gathered up her things before making her way to the trapdoor. Once out of the classroom Bree grinned.

* * *

187. Not allowed to leave Divination class early because "I just predicted my own death and would like to enjoy the time I have left."

* * *

Hermione was still glaring at Bree at dinner. "You're not going to get away with this. What do you think will happen when next week comes around a your not dead?" she asked.

Bree frowned. "You're right. I'll have to fake my death." she stated. Bree turned to the twins. "Want to help me?" she inquired.

Hermione twitched.

* * *

188. Not allowed to fake my own death.

189. Not allowed to ask others to help me fake my death.

* * *

Bree had decided that Defense Against the Dark Arts was her favorite class. It was rather odd. The past two years DADA had been her least favorite class. This was probably due to the fact that the past teacher were incompetent. Even so Bree had been expecting Care of Magical Creatures to be her favorite. Then Draco had to go and ruin it, and now Hagrid was terrified of another mishap and had the class taking care of flobberworms. She was learning more about magical creatures in DADA then in Hagrid's class. Professor Lupin was a brilliant teacher, only Draco had bad things to say about him. This led to Bree current activity, muttering to herself in the hall.

"Stupid little bleach blond. Tried to get himself offed by a hippogriff and made us all suffer. Damn Daddy's boy…" Bree stopped in her tracks, a grin over taking her face and scaring off some nearby Ravenclaw first years. "Daddy's boy… yes he's always quick to bring up his father, but what if…" Bree began to giggle as she resumed walking.

* * *

Two days later, Bree found herself quite happy as she walked through the halls of Hogwarts. There where whispers in the air. Rumors that Lucious Malfoy was not Draco's father. There were two theories going around about who Draco's father really was. One said it was Gilderoy Lockhart, both he and Draco had attention seeking tendencies. The other rumor said that Severus Snape was Draco's true father, after all the Potions Master favored the blond boy even more then the rest of his Slytherins, there had to be a reason… Yes Bree was quite happy and Draco didn't even know yet… She wondered what would happen if she sent the rumor to the Daily Prophet's gossip column.

* * *

380. Not allowed to start rumors that cast doubt on Draco's true parentage

* * *

It was now October, which meant that the Quidditch season was starting. This one fact caused Bree to have an hour long debate with herself about whether or not it would be better to have the Quidditch season during the warmer months. The debate ended with the decision that pie was delicious and that Bree should go get some.

While in the kitchens Bree procured some jars of food that she stuck under the bed next to the weapons she had been collecting. She idly wondered how long it would take for someone to notice the suits were no longer armed.

* * *

One day a notice appeared on the bulletin board in the common room. It said that the first Hogsmade weekend would be on Halloween. Bree frowned as soon as she read it. Now she would have to reschedule the irreparable mental scarring of the Slytherins to February.

* * *

On October sixteenth , just before transfiguration, Lavender Brown was crying just outside the classroom Parvati had her arm around her and was explaining something to Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who were looking very serious.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" said Hermione anxiously as she, Harry, and Ron went to join the group.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati whispered. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh," said Hermione, "I'm sorry, Lavender."

"I should have known!" said Lavender tragically. "You know what day it is?"

"The sixteenth of October! 'That thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!"

The whole class was gathered around Lavender now. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she said, "You… you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily by a fox," said Lavender, looking up at Hermione with streaming eyes, "but I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't I?"

"Oh for the love of…" Bree muttered. ""There are so many flaws in logic here I don't know where to start." she stated.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well first off, Lavender just said "I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't I?" if you have to ask then probably not. In order for you to be dreading something it has to be on your mind every single day and keep you up at night. Second, Parvati said that she just got the news today, which means that thee rabbit was killed sometime during the past few days. Lastly…" Bree paused her in explanation and sighed. "Lastly, it's just the way that life works, bad things happen. There will always be something that will bring you down and it's pretty easy to pick a day, or a week, or a month, and say something bad will during that time, because something bad will happen, for example, Ron," Ron stiffened up when he was mentioned, "something bad will happen to you in oh… how about June, yes something bad will happen to you in June."

"Why me?" Ron whined.

"Weren't you listening?" Bree asked in exasperation. "Bad things happen, regardless of whether someone tells you they will, or not."

"But, Professor Trelawney was right about Neville's teacup." Parvati protested.

Bree stared at her "It's _Neville_." she pointed out. Professor McGonagall opened the classroom door at that moment, thus ending the conversation.

* * *

The next day Professor McGonagall had forced Bree to give up the food and weapons she had been stockpiling under her bed. This was due to the fact the Hermione had discovered the stash late in the night. The discovery never would have happened if it hadn't been for Bree;s own cat and Bree felt that she should be let off the hook for the reason… No one agreed with her.

* * *

17. I may not raid the kitchens in preparation for the "Upcoming Zombie Apocalypse."

18. I mat not stockpile weapons under my bed in preparation for the "Upcoming Zombie Apocalypse."

* * *

On Halloween morning, everyone was excited to be going to Hogsmade, except Harry, but that was because he didn't get to go.

"Staying here, Potter?" shouted Malfoy, who was standing in line with Crabbe and Goyle. "Scared of passing the Dementors?"

Bree "accidentally" stepped on his foot.

* * *

Hogsmade was interesting, to say the least. Zonko's was a pranksters dream, and at Honeyduke's Bree bought a lot of Drooble's best blowing gum. The butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks was good, but Bree still preferred root beer. On the way back to Hogwarts Bree thought she saw a large black dog lucking near the castle.

* * *

When Bree entered the Great Hall, she saw that it had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling.

The food was good, as always and the feast ended with entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

All and all, it was a good day, until the Gryffindors got the entrance to their dorm. No one could get in, and the corridor became jammed with students.

"Let me through, please," came Percy's voice, and he came bustling importantly through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password, excuse me, I'm Head Boy…"

And then a silence fell over the crowd, from the front first, so that a chill seemed to spread down the corridor. They heard Percy say, in a suddenly sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. Quick."

People's heads turned; those at the back were standing on tiptoe.

"What's going on?" said Ginny, who had just arrived.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait; the Gryffindors squeezed together to let him through and Bree saw that the Fat Lady had vanished from her portrait, which had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely. Dumbledore took one quick look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber, to see Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

It was Peeves the Poltergeist, bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted, as he always did, at the sight of wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" said Dumbledore calmly, and Peeves's grin faded a little.

He didn't dare taunt Dumbledore. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing." he added unconvincingly.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," said Peeves, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at Dumbledore from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Professor Dumbledore sent all the Gryffindors back to the Great Hall, where they were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore told them as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," he added to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall, and said, "Oh, yes, you'll be needing…"

One casual wave of his wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls; another wave, and the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," said Professor Dumbledore, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly; the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" shouted Percy. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

Bree grabbed a sleeping bag, pull it over to a corner, and almost immediately fell asleep.

Hours later she woke up. It was rather late and she was staring at the stars trying to figure out what had woken her when a thought occurred to her. "Where the heck is the ceiling?" She sat up and looked around. "Oh yeah, we're all staying in the Great Hall. It's like camping… I hate camping." She rolled over and went back to sleep.

* * *

The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder. Bree however, had other concerns. Black had gotten in quit easily, imagine how easy it would be for the zombies. So Bree went off to the library where she wrote up an emergency plan on what to do in case Hogwarts was invaded by an undead hoard. The plan was based off of something she had found from Hogwarts: A History. During the goblin rebellions there had been a plan to keep students safe in case on an attack, Bree simply went from there.

* * *

19. I may not write up a Hogwarts Emergency plan for the "Upcoming Zombie Apocalypse."

* * *

Days later, Bree was really regretting having given Hermione one of her pamphlets, she thought the girl would be grateful for information about how to prolong her survival, but no, she had immediately turned Bree in to McGonagall.

* * *

20. I may not pass out pamphlets with details about the "Upcoming Zombie Apocalypse."

* * *

The next day, Bree was sitting in the common room when Harry walked up to her.

"Why are you telling people that I'm a zombie?" he asked.

Bree sighed. "Because I'm tired of people talking about Sirius Black. It's annoying. And did you hear Hannah Abbot's theory that the man could turn into a shrub. Honestly, I think someone would notice a shrub inside the castle, they're not exactly common… well not yet anyway, but that's beside the point. The point is that if people are talking about zombies they're not talking about Black, and if they're not talking about black, they're not annoying me."

"Well, stop it." Harry demanded.

"I already did. Now the rumor is just spreading itself. Nothing I can do."

Harry sighed and left the common room.

* * *

21. I may not tell people that Harry didn't survive the killing curse and is in fact a Zombie.

* * *

**If you want more info on the zombie rules, check out chapter seven of "88 rules for a Hogwarts experience."**

**Review please.**


	16. Year Three: Snape Sucks

**I would like to thank all of my reviewers and as thanks for your reviews I give you this important life lesson. Do not stick chapstick up your nose, it hurts. If you absolutely **_**need**_** to stick chapstick in your nose, make sure someone is around to help you get it out. That is all. Now on to the chapter!**

* * *

The weather got worse and worse as the date of Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the season approached. Bree found out that the Slytherin's would not be playing against Gryffindor as was planned. Instead, they'd be playing against Hufflepuff, because, apparently, Draco's back was acting up.

The day before the match, the winds reached howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. The Slytherin team was looking very smug indeed, and none more so than Malfoy.

"Ah, if only my back was feeling a bit better!" he sighed as the gale outside pounded the windows.

"You know…" Bree began catching the attention of everyone nearby. "Some people are alive today, simply because it is illegal to kill them." She stared right at Draco in order to prove her point.

Draco flinched and moved to hide behind Goyle.

* * *

543. Not allowed to say "Some people are alive today, simply because it is illegal to kill them" and then stare pointedly at Draco.

* * *

Harry was ten minutes late to Defense Against the Dark Arts that day.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin. I —"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who looked up at him from the teacher's desk; it was Snape.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from

Gryffindor. Sit down."

But Harry didn't move.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" he asked.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape responded with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

But Harry stayed where he was.

"What's wrong with him?"

Snape's black eyes glittered.

"Nothing life-threatening," he said, looking as though he wished it were. "Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far —"

"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas, and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly, cutting her off. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the class. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing you. I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows."

"It's not his fault our past two professors were incompetent. Did you know that Lockhart just reenacted his "heroic exploits" after the pixie incident?" Bree interjected.

Snape ignored her. "Today we shall discuss" he flipped through the textbook, all the way to one of the back chapters.

"werewolves." he said.

"But, sir," Hermione protested, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks."

"Miss Granger," Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you."

And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape asked.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back.

Bree lazily lifted her hand into the air.

"Smith." Snape said with a frown.

"I don't know, I just wanted to reveal a secret of life. You suck at it." Bree answered.

The class knew instantly she'd gone too far. Snape advanced on Bree slowly, and the room held its breath.

"Detention, Smith." Snape said silkily, his face very close to Bree's.

Bree just smirked in an amused fashion.

For the rest of the lesson, they sat and made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained… That is incorrect, the Kappa is more commonly found in

Mongolia… Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three…"

"That's because you're a spiteful man that hates everyone who isn't a Slytherin, and I wouldn't be surprised if you secretly despise them too." Bree muttered under her breath.

"What was that Smith?" Snape growled.

"Just commenting on how much you hate the world and everything in it." Bree replied with false sweetness.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Smith." Snape snarled.

When the bell rang at last, Snape held them back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Smith, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

* * *

638. When Snape calls on me to answer a question not allowed to say "I don't know, I just wanted to reveal a secret of life. You suck at it."

* * *

Bree's detention was scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wings. Bree actually didn't find this so bad. Cleaning her cat's litter box was actually a lot worse.

* * *

The next day was the day of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match. It was storming outside. Bree almost expected to see Hagrid building an ark.

Quidditch was so popular that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, despite the storm. But they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Bree saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, laughing and pointing at Harry from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium. Bree made a mental not to make sure that Malfoy "accidentally" fell in the mud.

The wind was so strong that the teams staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded. The teams mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant, and they were off.

And Bree could barely see what was happening because of the rain. It was just dark shapes moving about and you couldn't tell which team was which, and the rain was only getting worse.

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle. Apparently someone had called for a time-out.

Minutes later the teams were in the air again.

Lightning flashed and thunder clapped. It was getting dangerous to be out there. More lightning, then something odd began happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound. And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over Bree. Dementors had invaded the pitch. One of the players fell off of their broom. Dumbledore cast a spell that slowed the falling player's descent, then turned to the Dementors and cast a spell that shot slivery stuff at them, making them flee.

Dumbledore then magicked the player onto a stretcher. As she moved closer Bree could tell that the still and unmoving player was Harry.

* * *

In the hospital wing, Bree, Ron, Hermione, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, minus their Captain, were gathered around Harry's bed. None of them had taken the time to clean up after coming in from the rain, and the Qudditch team was covered in mud, while Bree, Ron, and Hermione were soaked. Bree had stolen blankets from several beds and after one had soaked up water, she switched to a drier one.

This process continued until Bree was significantly drier than her housemates, and she had bundled herself under three blankets. She was muttering things like "Stupid rain. Stupid Britain. Stupid Dementors. Stupid fudge." and "If it ever rained this much in California, they'd declare a state of emergency." Also, Katie Bell would later swear that she had heard the blond third year humming "I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor."

Finally Harry woke up.

"Harry!" Fred, who looked extremely white underneath the mud, exclaimed. "How're you feeling?"

"What happened?" Harry asked, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell off," Fred answered. "Must've been, what, fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died." Alicia, who was shaking, said.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

"That's what you're worried about!" Bree exclaimed. "But the match, he says. The pitch was full of Dementors, you nearly died, and you're worried about a game!"

There was a moment of silence after Bree had stopped shouting, everyone was waiting for Madam Pomfrey to come kick them out. When she didn't they figured it was because Bree and taken over the job of scolding Harry.

"Oh, and you lost." Bree added.

"Diggory got the Snitch," said George. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."

"That's dumb. If he wants to kill himself he should find a bathtub, or go to the lake." Bree commented.

Fred stared at her. "Later on, we're going to have a nice long talk about why that was completely the wrong response to hearing that someone might be trying to kill themselves, but for now we're going to focus on Harry." he told her.

Bree made an unhappy noise.

Turning back to Harry Fred said "It's not over yet. We lost by a hundred points."

"Right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw…"

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…"

"It all depends on the points, a margin of a hundred either way."

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Bree was about to leave as well when she did something that you shouldn't do in front of Madam Pomfrey, especially not when you're already in the hospital wing. She sneezed.

While the nurse was checking her over, Bree heard Hermione talking to Harry.

"Dumbledore was really angry. I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away… He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him —"

"Then he magicked you onto a stretcher," said Ron. "And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were…"

"Did someone get my Nimbus?"

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.

"Er —"

"What?" said Harry, looking from one to the other.

"Well… when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly.

"And?"

"And it hit, it hit, oh, Harry, it hit the Whomping Willow."

"And?" he said, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It — it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," said Hermione in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

Bree didn't hear anything else that might have been said because she was trying to convince Madam Pomfrey that, no, she wasn't getting sick, it was just because of dust, and she didn't need a pepper-up potion, thank you very much, so just put it back where it came from.

* * *

Bree was finally allowed to leave the hospital wing after, quite grudgingly, agreeing to take a pepper-up potion. Harry, however, had to stay for the weekend.

On Monday Bree, along with everyone else, was happy to see that Professor Lupin was well enough to teach his class. Upon finding out about the essay that Snape had assigned, Professor Lupin informed the class that they wouldn't have to do it. The only one disappointed by this news was Hermione, who had already finished it.

* * *

It was mid-November and most of the students noticed that Snape was becoming increasingly paranoid. This was probably due to the fact that Bree had taken to grinning manically at the potions professor whenever she encountered him. In potions class she would look up from her caldron with a grin. In the hall she would stop mid-conversation and grin until he passed by. And the situation was made worse when the Weasley twins had followed her example.

One day, at dinner, Bree had a spur of the moment idea. She had noticed Snape about to take his first sip of pumpkin juice, and she immediately looked excited. Snape noticed this, stared at her, then put his drink down. Bree forced herself to look disappointed.

George leaned over. "What did you do to his drink?" he asked in a whisper.

"Absolutely nothing." Bree whispered back.

"So then why did you look so excited?" George asked.

"Same reason I've been grinning at him. It messes with his head." Bree answered.

* * *

The next day, Snape finally confronted Bree.

"What did you do?" he practically growled.

Bree smirked. "I haven't done anything Professor." she responded.

"Lies! You and your conspirators have been planning something, I know it!" Snape exclaimed.

"Feeling a bit paranoid are we Professor? Good, that was the whole point. You see while I haven't done anything, making you think I did was the point." Bree replied.

Snape stared at Bree. "You would have done well in Slytherin." he said after a moment.

Bree shrugged. "The hat said it didn't want me that close to the foundation of the school." she answered.

* * *

639. Not allowed to grin manically at Snape.

640. Not allowed to look excited when Snape is about to drink his pumpkin juice, and disappointed when he puts it down without taking a sip.

* * *

**You know, I've been thinking, a lot of Harry Potter fiction includes romance, so my question for you readers is, should Bree be paired with anyone, and if so who?**

**That is all, review please! **


	17. Year Three: Christmas and Cars

Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November. Gryffindor were not out of the running after all, although they could not afford to lose another match. Wood became repossessed with his manic energy, and worked his team as hard as ever in the chilly haze of rain that persisted into December.

Two weeks before the end of the term, the sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies.

To everyone's delight except Harry's, there was to be another Hogsmeade trip on the very last weekend of the term.

"Harry's going to be left out again." Bree said to Fred and George.

"Yep." George agreed.

"Shame really. No third year should have to miss out on the wonders of Hogsmade." Fred stated.

"Too bad we can't do anything for him." Bree said.

The twins looked at each other, turned away, and began whispering. After about a minute they turned back to Bree.

"You two have an idea?" she asked.

Fred pulled out a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it.

Bree stared at it.

"What's this?" she inquired.

"This is the secret of our success," George explained, patting the parchment fondly.

"We've decided that Harry needs it more than we do." Fred said.

"What does it do?" Bree asked.

George took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing.

"Do these lead into Hogsmeade?" Bree asked, pointing to several passages that went off the map.

"Yeah. Filch knows about four of them, and the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor caved in last winter. And we don't reckon anyone's ever used this one, because the Whomping Willow's planted right over the entrance. But this one here, this one leads right into the cellar of Honeydukes, so we figure that Harry can use that one to get to Hogsmade." Fred explained.

"Mischief managed." George said, tapping the map with his wand again.

"I see. Good to know that Harry won't be missing out this time." Bree said.

* * *

On the day of the Hogsmeade weekend Fred and George went to give Harry the map. Bree had taken the opportunity to hurry ahead and prepare an ambush snowball fight, with the help of Lee Jordan.

When the twins finally arrived they were immediately assaulted with snowballs. The twins quickly took cover and began firing back. While the sides should have been clear cut, George and Lee kept switching sides. The fight ended when George "kidnapped" Bree and carried her into town. Fred and Lee mounted a rescue mission that ended in front of the three broomsticks when George released his "hostage" so that they could go in and get some butter-beer.

* * *

When they got back to the school Fred and George set off half a dozen Dungbombs. Bree went to bed early because she had to be on the train the next morning.

* * *

Before leaving for her Grandmother's house, Bree egged the Dursley's front and stuffed bacon up their drain spout. She had decided to make the egging parts of the house and hiding bacon a Christmas tradition.

* * *

For Christmas, Bree and her parents to her Father's Mother's house, where they would spend a day, before heading to America where they would stay in California with her Mother's Parents. Next year they would be visiting her Father's Father at his currently-under-construction-house in Australia. To Bree the whole thing seemed to be part of her paternal Grandparents "Look-how-good-I'm-doing-without-you" contest that had developed after their divorce, but whatever.

While in California, Bree visited the San Diego Zoo, where she accidentally discovered that there was a magical portion when she leaned against a wall in the reptile house. She quickly returned to the muggle portion, but not before catching a glimpse of a Runespoor. She didn't bring it up with her parents until later, because they were with her Grandparents and her Aunt, all of whom were quit muggle.

Bree got back to her home in England a day before she had to go back to Hogwarts. On that day two wizards came to the door. One was a large bearded man and the other was a woman with bright pink hair.

"Hello. I'm Bob from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and this is Nymphadora Tonks from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." the man said to Bree's mother after she answered the door.

"Call me Tonks." the woman put in.

"May we speak with Bree Smith?" Bob asked.

"What did she do?" Mrs. Smith asked.

"Nothing. Nothing." Bob assured. "We are here to ask her a few questions about the Hippogriff attack she endured in September." he explained.

Mrs. Smith let the two Ministry employees in.

"Why do you want to know about the attack?" Bree asked once they were seated in the living room.

"We just need to establish what happened in order to be sure that nothing criminal happened." Bob answered.

Bree rolled her eyes. "I figured that much out, what I meant was, why now?" she said.

"Lucius Malfoy wanted an inquiry. He's insisting that the hippogriff be put to death." Tonks replied..

"So what do you want to know?" Bree questioned.

"Just tell us what you remember about that day." Bob told her.

Bree thought for a moment. "It was the first Care of Magical creatures lesson, and Hagrid led us into the forest. Then he went and led the Hippogriffs out."

"What was he using to control them?" Bob interrupted.

"Ah, leather collars and chains." Bree answered. Bob motioned for her to continue.

"Right. So he told us exactly what we needed to do in order to safely approach a hippogriff."

Bob interrupted again. "What did he tell you?" he inquired.

"They Hippogriffs are proud, and never to insult one." Bree explained "He said to get near one you have to bow and if it bows back then you can go near it, and if it doesn't then you got to back away quick. But I noticed that Malfoy wasn't listening. He was talking to Crabbe and Goyle… So after he told us what we had to do, Hagrid asked for a volunteer. Harry stepped forward and Hagrid brought Buckbeak forward. Harry bowed, then Buckbeak bowed, so Harry was allowed to go near him… Harry petted Buckbeak, then Hagrid let him ride Buckbeak."

"He rode the Hippogriff?" Tonks asked incredulously.

Bree nodded. "Yeah, they went once around the paddock, then landed. Everyone was a lot less nervous after that, so we all climbed into the paddock, and everyone was doing well with the other Hippogriffs, but I went over to Buckbeak 'cause Malfoy was there. He was saying how interacting with the Hippogriffs was very easy, and that he knew it was because Harry could do it. He said that Buckbeak wasn't dangerous, then he called him a… a "great ugly brute" I believe it was."

"Are you sure that's what he said?" Bob asked.

"Yeah. So then I tackled Malfoy out of the way and Buckbeak got my shoulder." Bree had begun playing with the collar of her shirt, which drew attention to her scars. While the had faded somewhat, they still stood out against the rest of her skin. "Hagrid restrained Buckbeak and took me up to the hospital wing, and Madame Pomfrey fixed me up."

"Thank you. I believe we have everything we need." Bob stated as he left.

* * *

The next day when Bree arrived back at school, she found out that Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't getting along.

Harry had received a Firebolt for Christmas. The Firebolt was the fastest broomstick currently on the market. The broomstick had been sent anonymously and apparently Hermione had been worried that Sirius Black had sent it. She had informed McGonagall and McGonagall had confiscated the broom and was having Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch strip it down in order to look for jinxes. Ron and Harry weren't happy with this and were rather angry with their bushy haired friend.

Classes started again the next day. The last thing anyone felt like doing was spending two hours on the grounds on a raw January morning, but Hagrid had provided a bonfire full of salamanders for their enjoyment, and they spent an unusually good lesson collecting dry wood and leaves to keep the fire blazing while the flame-loving lizards scampered up and down the crumbling, white-hot logs. The first Divination lesson of the new term was much less fun; Professor Trelawney was now teaching them palmistry, and she lost no time in informing Harry that he had the shortest life line she had ever seen.

After Defense Against the Dark Arts Bree walked to dinner with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Still looks ill, doesn't he?" said Ron as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner.

"What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind them. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close.

"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably.

"Nothing." said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.

"Yes, you were." Ron argued. "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you —"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked, with a look of maddening superiority.

"If it were obvious he wouldn't be asking." Bree responded dryly.

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron.

"Fine." said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off.

"She doesn't know." said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again."

"It's just a broom." Bree muttered.

Harry and Ron stared at her in disbelief.

"It's a Firebolt. It's" Bree interrupted Ron.

"It's a cleaning implement. Now if it were a Maserati or a Ferrari I'd understand." she stated.

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked in a confused manner.

"Cars, Ron. Cars. Fast, beautiful machines that are like high-speed works of art." Bree explained with an air of longing in her voice.

"I don't see what's so great about them." Ron mumbled.

Bree glared at him. "Your only experience with a car is a Ford Anglia. Bulky square thing. What I'm talking about are modern streamlined high performance vehicles, with perfect curves." Bree had a smile on her face that grew as she spoke.

They arrived at the Great Hall and Bree went to go sit with the twins.

* * *

**As I was writing this chhapter I realized something. I think that Draco might owe Bree a Life Debt. Sure the hippogriff wouldn't have killed him if Bree hadn't of tackled him, but he dosen't know that.**

**What do you think?**

**Review please.**


	18. Year Three: That Owl Scares Me

Harry began anti-Dementor lessons with Professor Lupin. Apparently he was learning a spell that would drive them away.

Ravenclaw played Slytherin a week after the start of term. Slytherin won, though narrowly. According to Wood, this was good news for Gryffindor, who would take second place if they beat Ravenclaw too. He therefore increased the number of team practices to five a week.

The stress from the amount of work she had to do was finally getting to Hermione. Every night Hermione took over a corner of the common room, several tables piled high with books. She didn't talk to anyone and snapped when she was interrupted.

"How's she doing it?" Ron muttered to Harry one evening as Harry sat finishing an essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape. Bree, having already finished her essay, was making origami turtles. Hermione was barely visible behind a pile of books.

"Doing what?" Harry asked.

"Getting to all her classes!" Ron said. "I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday's lesson, but Hermione can't've been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie McMillan told me she's never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she's never missed one of them either!"

Harry went back to his essay and Bree continued making her turtles.

Not two seconds later Wood inturrupted. "Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She, er, got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first."

Bree glared at him, then stood up and kicked him in the shin. "Damn sports fanatic." she muttered as she left the common room.

* * *

One day Bree walked up to the twins and Lee Jordan. She was carrying a bag.

"I need your help." she told them.

"With what?" Lee asked warily.

"The owls." Bree said, as if that explained everything.

"What about the owls?" Fred questioned.

"They're naked." Bree stated.

Lee gave her a flat look. "Yes Bree. Owls are generally naked. What else have you learned today?" he said.

"Animal Rights Activists are offended by the phase "There's more than one way to skin a cat" and I need help dressing the owls." Bree responded

"In what?" George asked.

"Gryffindor scarves and glasses like Harry's, and I want to put little lightning bolts on their foreheads, if they'll let me." Bree answered.

"Brilliant!" the twins exclaimed simultaneously.

"How are you going to keep the owls from getting mad and attacking you?" Lee asked, his tone and facial expression indicating that he was resigned to the fact that his friends were completely insane and that he was going to do his best to keep them from hurting themselves.

"I intend to bribe them with bacon." Bree declared.

* * *

509. Not allowed to dress up the owls to look like Harry.

* * *

"Come on Lee, it's not that hard." George said as he wrapped a scarf around his tenth owl.

"I don't like the way it's looking at me." Lee protested.

"It's a Eurasian Eagle-owl. It always looks like that." Bree stated.

"Well, then you do it!" Lee exclaimed. Bree rolled her eyes. "Fine." she mutter before going to where the large owl was sitting. "Oh, what stunning plumage you have." she cooed to it while offering it some bacon. The owl in question was in fact Draco Malfoy's eagle owl, and as such Bree really wanted to, at the very least, get a Gryffindor scarf on it.

She slowly reached toward the owl, and gently massaged its scalp with her fingers. "Is it okay if I put this scarf on you?" she asked. The owl bobbed its head and let her put the scarf on it then stuck its head out so she would pet it more.

"Were all done over here. Are you going to put glasses on that one?" Fred called to her minutes later.

"It's one of the largest owls in the world, if you want it to wear glasses you put them on it." Bree growled back. The owl stared at Fred, as if daring him to try something.

"Er, no that's okay, let's go, dinner will be starting soon." Fred said as he backed away.

"I have to go now okay, see you later." Bree said to the owl. The owl nodded and Bree left.

The next day at breakfast, when the owl post came, most of the school couldn't help but stare at the owls, most of whom were wearing Gryffindor scarves, glasses that look liked Harry's, and had lightning bolts drawn onto their foreheads. The scene was made even more surreal by the fact that the owls were acting as if nothing was wrong.

Malfoy's eagle owl came in and landed next to her plate were it immediately demanded to be petted, moments later a great horned owl dropped a letter in Bree's lap. Bree opened it and read it.

Dear Miss Smith,

It has come to my attention that you saved my son from grievous injury at the beginning of the school year which resulted in you becoming injured yourself. Because of your heroic actions, my family owes you a debt. Perhaps we could meet and discuss the matter further sometime when your schedule permits it.

Sincerely,

Lucious Malfoy.

Bree blinked, blinked again, then wordlessly handed the letter to George, who immediately showed it to Fred.

"Do you think he means a life debt?" Fred asked when he was done reading.

"What's a life debt?" Bree inquired.

"It's a debt someone owes you when you save their life." George explained.

"Nah. Hagrid wouldn't have let Buckbeak kill Draco." Bree stated.

"I dunno, one good swipe from his talons in the right place and that git's life could have ended.

"We're not that lucky." Bree responded.

Later in the day Bree spotted Draco alone in the hall. She wondered if he knew about the debt. He turned a spotted her.

"What do you want, mud blood?" he snarled.

Apparently not. Bree grinned, then began laughing manically and walked away.

* * *

125. Not allowed to stare at Draco Malfoy, laugh manically, then walk away. (If you want to see this from Draco's point of view, go read chapter 9 of 88 rules for a peaceful Hogwarts experience.)

* * *

January faded imperceptibly into February, with no change in the bitterly cold weather. The match against Ravenclaw was drawing nearer and nearer, but Harry still hadn't ordered a new broom. He was now asking Professor McGonagall for news of the Firebolt after every Transfiguration lesson. For awhile he didn't get it back but one day he walked into the Gryffindor common room with it.

Harry was immediately surrounded by people who wanted to see his Firebolt.

"Where'd you get it, Harry?"

"Will you let me have a go?"

"Have you ridden it yet, Harry?"

"Ravenclaw'll have no chance, they're all on Cleansweep Sevens!"

"Can I just hold it, Harry?"

After ten minutes or so, during which the Firebolt was Passed around and admired from every angle, the crowd dispersed and Harry and Ron had a clear view of Hermione, the only person, other than Bree who kept muttering "It's just a broom", who hadn't rushed over to them, bent over her work and carefully avoiding their eyes. Harry and Ron approached her table and at last, she looked up.

"I got it back," said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the Firebolt.

"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron.

"Well, there might have been!" said Hermione. "I mean, at least you know now that it's safe!"

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. "I'd better put it upstairs."

"I'll take it!" said Ron eagerly. "I've got to give Scabbers his rat tonic."

He took the Firebolt and, holding it as if it were made of glass, carried it away up the boys' staircase.

"Can I sit down, then?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I suppose so," said Hermione, moving a great stack of parchment off a chair.

Bree had walked over and was eyeing Hermione's Muggle Studies essay: Explain Why Muggles Need Electricity.

"This is wrong." Bree stated.

"What!" Hermione explained.

"The whole premise of this essay is wrong, muggles don't need electricity. They just prefer it. Like how wizards don't need magic to do daily tasks, they just prefer it over hard labor." Bree explained.

"Oh." Hermione said.

"Honestly you're a muggleborn and you didn't think to point that out?" Bree reprimanded.

"Well I've had a lot of work to do lately." Hermione stated.

"Why don't you drop a couple of subjects?" Harry asked.

I couldn't do that!" said Hermione, looking scandalized.

"Arithmancy looks terrible," said Harry, picking up a very complicated-looking number chart.

"Oh no, it's wonderful!" said Hermione earnestly. "It's my favorite subject! It's —"

At that precise moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring, petrified, at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder, and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bed sheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to Hermione's table. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheets in her face.

"Ron, what?"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, looking utterly bewildered. The sheet had a little bit of blood on it and Bree could see where this was going.

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?"

"N-no," said Hermione in a trembling voice.

Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on top of the weird, spiky shapes were several long, ginger cat hairs

It looked like the end of Ron and Hermione's friendship. Each was so angry with the other that Harry couldn't see how they'd ever make up. Ron was enraged that Hermione had never taken Crookshanks's attempts to eat Scabbers seriously, hadn't bothered to keep a close enough watch on him, and was still trying to pretend that Crookshanks was innocent by suggesting that Ron look for Scabbers under all the boys' beds. Hermione, meanwhile, maintained fiercely that Ron had no proof that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, that the ginger hairs might have been there since Christmas, and that Ron had been prejudiced against her cat ever since Crookshanks had landed on Ron's head in the Magical Menagerie.

Ron had taken the loss of his rat very hard indeed.

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," said Fred bracingly.

"And he's been off-color for ages, he was wasting away. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly, one swallow, he probably didn't feel a thing."

"Fred!" said Ginny indignantly.

"All he did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," said George.

"He bit Goyle for us once!" Ron said miserably. "Remember, Harry?"

"Yeah, that's true," said Harry.

"So he was useful once. That's great Ron. Really." Bree said sarcastically.

"Shut up you- you- cat lover!" Ron exclaimed.

"Wow Ron. What an insult." Bree deadpanned before leaving.

Harry went down to breakfast the next morning with the rest of the boys in his dormitory, all of whom seemed to think the Firebolt deserved a sort of guard of honor.

"It's just a broom." Bree muttered as she walked past them.

As Harry entered the Great Hall, heads turned in the direction of the Firebolt, and there was a good deal of excited muttering. The Slytherin team was all looking thunderstruck.

"Did you see his face?" said Ron gleefully, looking back at Malfoy. "He can't believe it! This is brilliant!"

Wood, too, was basking in the reflected glory of the Firebolt.

"Put it here, Harry," he said, laying the broom in the middle of the table and carefully turning it so that its name faced upward. People from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were soon coming over to look. Cedric Diggory came over to congratulate Harry on having acquired such a superb replacement for his Nimbus, and Percy's Ravenclaw girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, asked if she could actually hold the Firebolt.

"Now, now, Penny, no sabotage!" said Percy heartily as she examined the Firebolt closely. "Penelope and I have got a bet on," he told the team. "Ten Galleons on the outcome of the match!"

Penelope put the Firebolt down again, thanked Harry, and went back to her table.

"Harry — make sure you win," said Percy, in an urgent whisper. "I haven't got ten Galleons. Yes, I'm coming, Penny!" And he bustled off to join her in a piece of toast.

"Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?" said a cold, drawling voice.

Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

"Yeah, reckon so," said Harry casually.

"Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" said Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously.

"Shame it doesn't come with a parachute, in case you get too near a Dementor."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"Amazing how you trained them to laugh at your jokes, you'd almost think you were funny." Bree said with an air of malice.

The Gryffindor team laughed loudly. Malfoy's pale eyes narrowed, and he stalked away. They watched him rejoin the rest of the Slytherin team, who put their heads together, no doubt asking Malfoy whether Harry's broom really was a Firebolt.

The post came, and Bree found herself once again visited by Malfoy's eagle owl. Bree figured that Draco didn't pay any attention to it and that's why it kept coming back to her. The rest of the Gryffindors were too scared of the large owl to shoo it away.

At a quarter to eleven, the Gryffindor team set off for the locker rooms. The weather couldn't have been more different from their match against Hufflepuff. It was a clear, cool day with a very light breeze; there would be no visibility problems this time.

Gryffindor won the game, but the most notable thing that happened was when Malfoy and some of the Slytherins dressed as dementors and tried to sabotage Harry.

Of course there was a party to celebrate. The party went on all day and well into the night. Fred and George disappeared for a couple of hours and returned with armfuls of bottles of butterbeer, pumpkin fizz, and several bags full of Honeydukes sweets.

"How did you do that?" squealed Angelina Johnson as George started throwing Peppermint Toads into the crowd.

Only one person wasn't joining in the festivities. Hermione, incredibly, was sitting in a corner, attempting to read an enormous book entitled Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles.

"Hermione, you're a British muggleborn, I think you know more about the subject then that book." Bree stated.

"But it was assigned reading." Hermione protested.

"Oh for the love of… Alright Hermione go ahead a keep reading, but when you die from all the homework induced stress I've got first dibs on your stuff." Bree stated leaving Hermione's side and rejoining the party. She noticed that Harry had gone to talk to the bushy haired bookworm.

A few minutes later Ron said loudly, "If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them."

Hermione burst into tears. Before anyone could say or do anything, she tucked the enormous book under her arm, and, still sobbing, ran toward the staircase to the girls' dormitories and out of sight.

"You're on my list." Bree hissed in Ron's ear.

The Gryffindor party ended only when Professor McGonagall turned up in her tartan dressing gown and hair net at one in the morning, to insist that they all go to bed.

Hours later everyone was woken up by the sound of screaming coming from the boy's dorm. Bree and a few other girls went down to the common room to see what was going on.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" said Fred brightly.

"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the common room and pinning hisHead Boy badge to his pajamas as he spoke.

"Perce, Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The common room went very still.

"Nonsense!" said Percy, looking startled. "You had too much to eat, Ron, had a nightmare."

"I'm telling you"

"Now, really, enough's enough!"

Professor McGonagall was back. She slammed the portrait behind her as she entered the common room and stared furiously around.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy, puffing himself up indignantly. "I was just telling them all to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare."

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" said Ron, pointing a shaking finger at the back of Sir Cadogan's picture. "Ask him if he saw."

Glaring suspiciously at Ron, Professor McGonagall pushed the portrait back open and went outside. The whole common room listened with bated breath. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" cried Sir Cadogan.

There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the common room.

"You - you did?" said Professor McGonagall. "But, but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogan proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.

"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy slippered toes, raised his hand slowly into the air.


	19. Year Three: Don't End Up Like Alice

No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night. They knew that the castle was being searched again, and the whole House stayed awake in the common room, waiting to hear whether Black had been caught. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn, to tell them that he had again escaped.

Throughout the day, everywhere they went they saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black; Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks in the walls to mouse holes. Sir Cadogan had been fired. His portrait had been taken back to its lonely landing on the seventh floor, and the Fat Lady was back. She had been expertly restored, but was still extremely nervous, and had agreed to return to her job only on condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in a menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.

Ron had become an instant celebrity. For the first time in his life, people were paying more attention to him than to Harry, and it was clear that Ron was rather enjoying the experience. Though still severely shaken by the night's events, he was happy to tell anyone who asked what had happened, with a wealth of detail.

"… I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft… I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down… I rolled over… and I saw him standing over me… like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair… holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches… and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled, and he scampered.

Neville was in total disgrace. Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him. None of these punishments, however, came close to matching the one his grandmother had in store for him. Two days after Black's break-in, she sent Neville the very worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive over breakfast… a Howler.

The school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual, and Neville choked as a huge barn owl landed in front of him, a scarlet envelope clutched in its beak. Harry and Ron, who were sitting opposite him, recognized the letter as a Howler at once, Ron had got one from his mother the year before.

"Run for it, Neville," Ron advised.

Neville didn't need telling twice. He seized the envelope, and holding it before him like a bomb, sprinted out of the hall, while the Slytherin table exploded with laughter at the sight of him. They heard the Howler go off in the entrance hall. Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family.

Harry was too busy feeling sorry for Neville to notice immediately that he had a letter too. Hedwig got his attention by nipping him sharply on the wrist.

"Ouch! Oh, thanks, Hedwig."

Harry tore open the envelope while Hedwig helped herself to some of Neville's cornflakes.

Malfoy's owl, Aries as Bree had learned its name was, strode over to Hedwig a preceded to do what Bree assumed was an owl's version of flirting. Minutes later he went back over to Bree, head hung low, apparently having been rejected. Bree patted him on the head.

"There, there. I still think you're great." she said.

A Hogsmade weekend was coming up. Bree had given up her plan to irreparably mentally scar the Slytherins in favor of tormenting Ron. She had yet to do anything to him yet, but that was only because she hadn't been able to get onto the school grounds in order to collect the worms she needed. On Saturday she made sure that everyone who had to remain at school would think she had gone to Hogsmade and everyone who was going to Hogsmade would think she was at school.

Bree asked the house-elves to make her a lunch, saying that there food was far better then anything in Hogsmade. The house elves gave her four turkey sandwiches and a slice of apple pie.

Bree snuck out to the forbidden forest, only going in deep enough to hide from anyone who might happen to look out a window. After a couple of hours she had dug up quite a few worms, but not exactly the number she was hoping for. The she heard something. It was the familiar sound of the bell on her cat Muffin's collar. Bree turned and spotted Muffin who was following the much larger Crookshanks and both felines were headed… right for the Whomping Willow!

Bree quickly took off after both felines, the willow's branches began swaying in warning. Crookshanks quickly darted forward and pressed a knot on the trunk of the willow. The tree instantly went still. Both cats disappeared down a hole at the base of the tree. Bree ran up to the edge of it and stared into the darkness. She could faintly hear the ringing of the bell on Muffin's collar. Feeling a bit like Alice at the edge of the rabbit hole, Bree followed the cats into the hole. She found herself in a tunnel. Bree cast a quick Lumos spell in order to allow herself to see.

Bree quickly began walking through the tunnel, careful not to trip on any roots or stones. All the while she could hear the bell in the distance. At one point the ringing stopped. A few minutes later Bree found out why. On the floor of the tunnel was Muffin's collar, it had gotten caught on a root and Muffin must have wriggled out of it. Bree picked it up and continued down the tunnel. The bell on the collar ringing with every step she took.

She soon found herself inside a room, a very disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up. The room was deserted, but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. Wandered around the building, peering out the cracks between the boards that covered the windows, trying to figure out where she was. At one point she found herself looking at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle being pelted with mud thrown by an unknown assailant.

At one point Crabbe tripped, and suddenly Harry's head appeared floating in midair. Malfoy screamed and ran. Bree drew away from the window.

"Well that was interesting." she murmured. She turned around and found herself looking at a large dog with shaggy black fur. The dog was emaciated. Bones were clearly visible beneath its skin. Bree could've counted every rib if she wanted to. Crookshanks and Muffin sat on either side of the dog.

"Muffin, you naughty kitty. You nearly gave me a heart attack when I saw you going toward the willow." Bree said as she walked over to her cat and picked her up. She quickly put her collar on and then set her down. She turned back to the dog. Bree sat down on the floor and put the bag she had been carrying in her lap so she could have better access to it. She pulled out one of the sandwiches that the house elves had given to her. She unwrapped it set in down in front of the dog. The dog looked at Bree then the sandwich and back.

"Well go on. I have more, after you eat that one we'll see if you can stomach another." Bree said encouragingly.

The dog began eating and Bree pulled out another sandwich for herself. After both Bree and the dog had finished eating scratched the dog behind the ears and between the shoulders, before checking her watch.

"Damn it. It's later then I thought, I've got to get going, everyone will be back soon!" Bree exclaimed. She quickly pulled out the last two sandwiches and set them on the floor along with the piece of apple pie the elves had given her, said a quick goodbye to the dog, then rushed back to the tunnel.

Bree rushed back to the school, her cat on her heels. Once inside Bree picked Muffin up and walked calmly down the hall.

She passed by Professor Lupin, who seemed to sniff the air before stopping her.

"How was Hogsmade, Miss Smith?" he asked.

"Ah, it was fine, I didn't really feel like being around people today so I stayed to myself." Bree responded.

Lupin seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking "Did you run into any dogs?"

Bree blinked in surprise. "No. Why?" she replied, pulling Muffin closer to her chest.

"I've heard that there's been a bit of a problem with strays recently." Lupin answered.

"I see. Well I have to get going, see you later Professor." Bree said before continuing down the hall.

Bree found out later that Lupin had confiscated the map from Harry. Hermione and Ron had finally made up, so Bree decided not to put the worms she had collected in his bed, or clothes, or food.

Hermione wasn't in charms class on Monday. They were experimenting with Cheering Charms. Bree didn't really like them. Bree didn't really want to be that happy at that particular moment, and, after a while, smiling hurts. Hermione wasn't at lunch either.

She did turn up for divination, but she looked rather stressed. Glowing on every little table in the classroom was a crystal ball full of pearly white mist. Bree settled in a large armchair in the back and glared at anyone who came near. She was very unhappy. The cheering charms had unsettled her. She didn't like feeling emotions that weren't hers.

"Good day to you!" said the familiar, misty voice, and Professor Trelawney made her usual dramatic entrance out of the shadows. Parvati and Lavender quivered with excitement, their faces lit by the milky glow of their crystal ball.

"I have decided to introduce the crystal ball a little earlier than I had planned," said Professor Trelawney, sitting with her back to the fire and gazing around. "The fates have informed me that your examination in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

Hermione snorted.

"Well, honestly… 'the fates have informed her'. Who sets the exam? She does! What an amazing prediction!" she said, not troubling to keep her voice low. Harry and Ron choked back laughs.

It was hard to tell whether Professor Trelawney had heard them as her face was hidden in shadow. She continued, however, as though she had not.

"Crystal gazing is a particularly refined art," she said dreamily. "I do not expect any of you to See when first you peer into the Orb's infinite depths. We shall start by practicing relaxing the conscious mind and external eyes" Ron began to snigger uncontrollably and had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise, "so as to clear the Inner Eye and the super conscious. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of you will see before the end of the class."

Bree didn't really have a problem with this lesson. She was actually pretty good at tuning out the world around her. It was a skill she had developed on long flights in order to pass the time when she couldn't sleep in the plane. This handy skill allowed her to space out within a few minutes. She stared blankly at the crystal ball with nothing on her mind. She wasn't really aware of anything else in the classroom until Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

"Now, really!" said Professor Trelawney as everyone's heads turned in their direction. Parvati and Lavender were looking scandalized. "You are disturbing the clairvoyant vibrations!" She approached their table and peered into their crystal ball.

There is something here!" Professor Trelawney whispered, lowering her face to the ball, so that it was reflected twice in her huge glasses. "Something moving… but what is it?"

"My dear," Professor Trelawney breathed, gazing up at Harry. "It is here, plainer than ever before… my dear, stalking toward you, growing ever closer… the Gr"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" said Hermione loudly. "Not that ridiculous Grim again!"

Professor Trelawney raised her enormous eyes to Hermione's face. Parvati whispered something to Lavender, and they both glared at Hermione too. Professor Trelawney stood up, surveying Hermione with unmistakable anger.

"I am sorry to say that from the moment you have arrived in this class my dear, it has been apparent that you do not have what the noble art of Divination requires. Indeed, I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane."

There was a moment's silence. Then…

"Fine!" said Hermione suddenly, getting up and cramming Unfogging the Future back into her bag. "Fine!" she repeated, swinging the bag over her shoulder and almost knocking Ron off his chair. "I give up! I'm leaving!"

And to the whole class's amazement, Hermione strode over to the trapdoor, kicked it open, and climbed down the ladder out of sight.

It took a few minutes for the class to settle down again. Professor Trelawney seemed to have forgotten all about the Grim. She turned abruptly from Harry and Ron's table, breathing rather heavily as she tugged her gauzy shawl more closely to her.

"Ooooo!" said Lavender suddenly, making everyone start. "Ooooo, Professor Trelawney, I've just remembered! You saw her leaving, didn't you? Didn't you, Professor? 'Around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever!' You said it ages ago, Professor!"

Professor Trelawney gave her a dewy smile.

"Yes, my dear, I did indeed know that Miss Granger would be leaving us. One hopes, however, that one might have mistaken the Signs… The Inner Eye can be a burden, you know…"

Lavender and Parvati looked deeply impressed, and moved over so that Professor Trelawney could join their table instead.

Bree tuned out again until the end of class.

The Easter holidays were not exactly relaxing. The third years had never had so much homework. Neville Longbottom seemed close to a nervous collapse, and he wasn't the only one.

"Call this a holiday!" Seamus Finnigan roared at the common room one afternoon. "The exams are ages away, what're they playing at?"

But nobody had as much to do as Hermione. Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. She was usually last to leave the common room at night, first to arrive at the library the next morning; she had shadows like Lupin's under her eyes, and seemed constantly close to tears.

One day Bree had had enough and grabbed Hermione by the wrist and dragged her to McGonagall's office.

"Look at her!" Bree exclaimed, shoving the bushy haired girl toward her Head of House.

"She's a mess." the blond continued. She glared at McGonagall. "You're our Head of House, she's your responsibility, fix her!" Bree shouted before storming out of the room.

It would at this point be pertinent to mention that Bree was becoming increasingly stressed due to her inability to freely wander the castle grounds. The lack of privacy that dorm life provided and the fact the she was now thirteen year old hormonal teenager, also served to increase her daily amount of stress. Bree felt this stress the most in the mornings, which led to Bree behaving rather hostilely at breakfast.

"Excuse me. Move it or lose it. Out of the way shorty." Bree snapped at some first years who were blocking Bree progress to the Great Hall. Several Hufflepuffs had burst into tears due to some other insults that shouldn't be repeated in polite company.

* * *

311. Just because I'm not a morning person, doesn't mean I can make the first years cry.

* * *

Bree spat out a couple of death threats before Professor Lupin reprimanded her. His words didn't really register beyond "Someone's talking to me and their in my way."

"Bite me!" Bree snarled before stalking into the Great Hall, leaving Professor Lupin gaping in shock.

* * *

66. Telling Professor Lupin to "Bite Me" is wrong.

* * *

Bree was given detention. She knew she deserved it. She should have tried to control her temper better… but damn if it wasn't fun to see Slytherin first years scatter at the sight of her.

The Gryffindor-Slytherin match would take place on the first Saturday after the Easter holidays. Slytherin was leading the tournament by exactly two hundred points. This meant (as Wood constantly reminded his team) that they needed to win the match by more than that amount to win the Cup. It also meant that the burden of winning fell largely on Harry, because capturing the Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points.

"So you must catch it only if we're more than fifty points up," Wood told Harry constantly. "Only if we're more than fifty points up, Harry, or we win the match but lose the Cup. You've got that, Haven't you? You must catch the Snitch only if we're —"

"I KNOW, OLIVER!" Harry yelled.

The whole of Gryffindor House was obsessed with the coming match. Gryffindor hadn't won the Quidditch Cup since the legendary Charlie Weasley (Ron's second oldest brother) had been Seeker.

Never, in anyone's memory, had a match approached in such a highly charged atmosphere. By the time the holidays were over, tension between the two teams and their Houses was at the breaking point. A number of small scuffles broke out in the corridors, culminating in a nasty incident in which a Gryffindor fourth year and a Slytherin sixth year ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

Harry was having a particularly bad time of it. He couldn't walk to class without Slytherins sticking out their legs and trying to trip him up; Crabbe and Goyle kept popping up wherever he went, and slouching away looking disappointed when they saw him surrounded by people. Wood had given instructions that Harry should be accompanied everywhere he went, in case the Slytherins tried to put him out of action.

The whole of Gryffindor House took up the challenge enthusiastically, so that it was impossible for Harry to get to classes on time because he was surrounded by a vast, chattering crowd. Harry was more concerned for his Firebolt's safety than his own. When he wasn't flying it, he locked it securely in his trunk and frequently dashed back up to Gryffindor Tower at break times to check that it was still there.

All usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor common room the night before the match. Even Hermione had put down her books.

"I can't work, I can't concentrate," she said nervously.

There was a great deal of noise. Fred and George Weasley were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were laughing at Fred's and George's jokes. Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione, removed from the center of things. Oliver Wood was crouched over a model of a Quidditch field in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself.

"Talking to yourself is one of the first signs that you're going completely mad." Bree said to him, causing him to stare at her. Bree grinned. "It's not that bad, being mad. After all… we're all mad here." she stated.

Wood suddenly stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"

"What do you think that was about?" Bree said in the direction of her right shoulder.

"I don't know." Bree responded, addressing the direction of her left shoulder. "What do you think Hermione?" she asked with a maniac grin.

"I think you need to go to bed." Hermione answered.

Bree nodded. "Good idea. I do tend to act a bit off when I'm tired." she said before heading up to the common room.

The next day Gryffindor won the match, and the cup. Naturally there was a party to top all other parties.


	20. Year Three: Dog and a Werewolf

As June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.

But they couldn't. Exams were nearly upon them, and instead of lazing around outside, the students were forced to remain inside the castle, trying to bully their brains into concentrating while enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Even Fred and George had been spotted working.

They were about to take their O.W.L.s (Ordinary Wizarding Levels). Percy was getting ready to take his N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), the highest qualification Hogwarts offered. As Percy hoped to enter the Ministry of Magic, he needed top grades. He was becoming increasingly edgy, and gave very severe punishments to anybody who disturbed the quiet of the common room in the evenings. Hermione was less stressed than she had been before Bree forced her to talk to McGonagall, and it appeared that she was getting more sleep.

Bree was probably the least stressed person in school. Even though she still couldn't go outside, with everybody studying she was able to get her much needed alone time. Also, Bree's current plan for her life didn't really plan for her living past her late twenty's so the exams really didn't matter much to her beyond the fact that her mother would to furious if she failed.

The exams went pretty smoothly for the blond. Her favorite was the second to last exam, on Thursday morning, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin had compiled the most unusual exam any of them had ever taken; a sort of obstacle course outside in the sun, where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a Grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a Hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a new Boggart.

Bree's last exam was Divination. Bree arrived at the same time as Harry and Ron. Many of their classmates were sitting on the spiral staircase to Professor Trelawney's classroom, trying to cram in a bit of last-minute studying.

"She's seeing us all separately," Neville informed them as they went to sit down next to him. He had his copy of Unfogging the Future open on his lap at the pages devoted to crystal gazing. "Have either of you ever seen anything in a crystal ball?" he asked them unhappily.

"Nope," said Ron in an offhand voice.

The line of people outside the classroom shortened very slowly. As each person climbed back down the silver ladder, the rest of the class hissed, "What did she ask? Was it okay?"

But they all refused to say.

"She says the crystal ball's told her that if I tell you, I'll have a horrible accident!" squeaked Neville as he clambered back down the ladder toward Bree, Harry and Ron, who had now reached the landing.

"That's convenient," snorted Ron. "You know, I'm starting to think Hermione was right about her", he jabbed his thumb toward the trapdoor overhead, "she's a right old fraud."

"Yeah," said Harry, looking at his own watch. It was now two o'clock. "Wish she'd hurry up…"

Parvati came back down the ladder glowing with pride.

"She says I've got all the makings of a true Seer," she said. "I saw loads of stuff… Well, good luck!"

She hurried off down the spiral staircase toward Lavender.

"Ronald Weasley," said the familiar, misty voice from over their heads. Ron grimaced at Harry and climbed the silver ladder out of sight. Finally, after about twenty minutes, Ron's large feet reappeared on the ladder.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked him, standing up.

"Rubbish," said Ron. "Couldn't see a thing, so I made some stuff up. Don't think she was convinced, though…"

"Meet you in the common room," Harry muttered as Professor Trelawney's voice called,

"Harry Potter!"

Harry came down awhile later, looking rather spooked.

"Are you alright?" Bree asked in concern.

"Yeah…it's just… nothing. I'm fine." Harry answered.

Bree couldn't press the issue because right then Trelawney called her.

The tower room was hotter than ever before; the curtains were closed, the fire was alight, and the usual sickly scent made Bree sneeze as she stumbled through the clutter of chairs and table to where Professor Trelawney sat waiting for her before a large crystal ball.

"Good day, my dear," she said softly. "If you would kindly gaze into the Orb… Take your time, now… then tell me what you see within it…"

Bree followed her usual tactic of staring blankly at the ball and just tuning out the world around her.

"What do you see, child?" Trelawney asked excitedly after a few minutes.

Bree head snapped up to look the Professor in the eye.

"What?" Bree asked.

"You went into a trance, what did you see." Trelawney asked again.

"It was… nothing. It was nothing."

Bree answered before leaving.

"The future can be frightening. When you are ready to face it come see me." she heard Trelawney call after her.

* * *

After dinner, Bree stood by the front doors of Hogwarts wishing she could go outside. the doors were open to let in sunlight so she could at least look out. She noticed something moving along the ground. It took a moment for her recognize that it was Scabbers.

She ran after the rat, not realizing that she had called out to, nor that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were following her, although they were far behind her. When she finally managed to pick Scabbers up, the rat began thrashing and trying to bite. Before Bree knew what was happening, the big black dog she had met on the last Hogsmade weekend had grabbed her by the sleeve and was pulling her toward the whomping willow. Down the hole and into the tunnel they went.

"Stop that! I can move more quickly if you don't pull on my sleeve!" Bree exclaimed. The dog let go of her sleeve and Bree followed it down the tunnel, all the way to the Shrieking Shack. Scabbers was thrashing violently the whole way. She followed the dog out into the hall and up the crumbling staircase and into a room that contained a magnificent four-poster bed with dusty hangings that seemed to be the only intact piece of furniture in the building.

The dog's form shifted into that of a man with a mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. He had the starved look of someone who had been in a concentration camp. It was Sirius Black.

"What do you want from me?" Bree asked.

Black looked surprised. "Aren't you afraid?" he inquired.

"Terrified. But if you wanted me dead I'd have died weeks ago. So let's pretend I've already gotten through screaming my head off, so you can answer my question." Bree answered.

"It wasn't you I was after." Black stated. The stairs creaked. Bree frowned at looked toward the door. It swung wide open and Harry, Ron, and Hermione dashed over to the blond.

"Bree are you alright?"

"Where's the dog?"

"I'm fine. And it wasn't a dog." Bree replied.

"What?" Harry questioned in confusion.

"It wasn't a dog. It was an Animagus." Bree stated just as Sirius closed the door. The trio turned to face him.

"Expelliarmus!" he croaked, pointing what Bree was sure was a stolen wand at them.

Their wands shot out of their hands, high in the air, and Black caught them. Then he took a step closer. His eyes were fixed on Harry.

"I thought you'd come and help your friend," he said hoarsely.

His voice sounded as though he had long since lost the habit of using it. "Your father would have done the same for me. Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful… it will make everything much easier…"

Harry started forward, but Ron and Hermione held him back. "No, Harry!" Hermione gasped in a petrified whisper; Ron, however, spoke to Black.

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" he said fiercely.

"There'll be only one murder here tonight," said Black, and his grin widened.

The rat in Bree's hand began struggling more fiercely.

"Why's that?" Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free of Ron, and Hermione. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew… What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry!" Hermione whimpered. "Be quiet!"

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared, and with a huge effort he broke free of Hermione and Ron lunged forward.

Perhaps it was the shock of Harry doing something so stupid, but Black didn't raise the wand in time, one of Harry's hands fastened over his wasted wrist, forcing the wand tips away; the knuckles of Harry's other hand collided with the side of Black's head and they fell, backward, into the wall.

Hermione was screaming; Ron was yelling; Bree was staring thoughtfully at the struggling rat; there was a blinding flash as the wands in Black's hand sent a jet of sparks into the air that missed Harry's face by inches.

Harry pinned one of Black's wrists down with one hand while the other hand punching every part of Black it could find.

But Black's free hand had found Harry's throat

"No," he hissed, "I've waited too long."

The fingers tightened, Harry choked, his glasses askew.

Hermione kicked Black who let go of Harry with a grunt of pain; Ron had threw himself on Black's wand hand and Bree heard a faint clatter. Her attention turned away from the rat in her hand, toward the tangle of bodies in front of her. Harry fought his way out and was grabbing for his wand when Crookshanks joined the fray; both sets of front claws had sinking themselves deep into Harry's arm; Harry threw him off, but Crookshanks now darted toward Harry's wand.

"NO YOU DON'T!" roared Harry, and he aimed a kick at Crookshanks that made the cat leap aside, spitting; Harry snatched up his wand and turned —

"Get out of the way!" he shouted at Ron and Hermione.

Hermione, gasping for breath, her lip bleeding, scrambled aside, snatching up her and Ron's wands. Ron moved toward Bree.

"Why didn't you help?" he hissed.

"I didn't have to." the blond answered.

Black was sprawled at the bottom of the wall. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched Harry walking slowly nearer, his wand pointing straight at Black's heart.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered.

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding.

"You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady.

"I thought Voldemort killed your parents." Bree commented.

"He wouldn't have been able to if Black hadn't given their location to him." Harry snarled.

"I didn't. I would never…" Black protested, but was cut off by Harry.

"Shut up! You can't deny what you did! You never heard her, did you? My mum… trying to stop Voldemort killing me… and you did that… you did it…"

Before either of them could say another word Crookshanks leapt onto Black's chest and settled himself there, right over Black's heart. Black blinked and looked down at the cat.

"Get off," he murmured, trying to push Crookshanks off him.

But Crookshanks sank his claws into Black's robes and wouldn't shift. He turned his ugly, squashed face to Harry and looked up at him with those great yellow eyes. To his right, Hermione gave a dry sob.

Harry raised the wand. The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's heavy breathing. Hermione was quite silent. Bree hadn't moved from her spot on the bed.

And then came a new sound. Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor, someone was moving downstairs.

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE! SIRIUS BLACK! QUICK!"

Black made a startled movement that almost dislodged Crookshanks; Harry gripped his wand convulsively.

The door of the room burst open in a shower of red sparks and Harry wheeled around as Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet.

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted.

Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, and then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest.

Then Lupin spoke, in a very tense voice.

"Where is he, Sirius?"

Bree was staring at the rat again.

Harry looked uncomprehendingly at Lupin. He didn't understand what Lupin meant. He turned to look at Black again.

Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Bree. Mystified, Harry glanced around at Bree, who just rolled her eyes.

"But then…" Lupin muttered, staring at Black intently, "… why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless," Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none one else could see, " unless he was the one… unless you switched… without telling me?"

Very slowly, his gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded.

"Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's…"

But he never finished the question, because what he saw made his voice die in his throat. Lupin was lowering his wand, gazing fixed at Black. The Professor walked to Black's side, seized his hand, pulled him to his feet so that Crookshanks fell to the floor, and embraced Black like a brother.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed.

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had gotten up off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You, you"

"Hermione!"

"you and him!"

"Hermione, calm down —"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you."

"Hermione, listen to me, please" Lupin shouted. "I can explain —"

Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury.

"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain…"

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too, he's a werewolf!"

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead." An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay…"

"He'll be delighted," said Lupin coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant… Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the Boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione said quietly.

Lupin forced a laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do."

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf," Ron gasped. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so," said Lupin. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy."

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry yelled. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!"

He was pointing at Black, who suddenly crossed to the four-poster bed and sank onto it, his face hidden in one shaking hand. Crookshanks leapt up beside him and stepped onto his lap, purring. Bree scooted over to make room for him. At some point Bree's cat, Muffin, had appeared and had attempted to get to rat in Bree's hand. Bree thwarted her efforts and flicking the cat's nose.

"Bree what…?" Ron couldn't finish his question. Bree shrugged.

"If you haven't been helping him," he said, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —"

"You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony, that was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"You wrote…?"

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening. I've checked it every evening, ever since Bree came back from Hogsmade covered in Sirius's sent."

"I didn't go to Hogsmade that day, well I didn't mean to at least." Bree interjected. "I was in the forbidden forest. I only went in deep enough so that no one could see me from the castle, which was like… six feet."

"Why?" Lupin asked.

"I was collecting worms to put in Ron's bed, and clothes, and possibly his food once I research potential health risks." the blond answered.

"What did I do?" Ron asked indignantly.

"You made Hermione cry. You're lucky you made up with her that day, otherwise…" Bree responded with a grin.

"So you met Sirius in the forbidden forest?" Lupin inquired.

"No. I met him here. Well not here, here. In one of the rooms downstairs here." Bree said.

"She gave me sandwiches and pie. Thanks for that, by the way." Sirius put in. Bree nodded.

"But how did you get past the willow?" Hermione asked.

"The bell on Muffin's collar caught my attention and I saw her and Crookshanks headed for the willow and I panicked and tried to stop them, but then Crookshanks pressed a knot that made the willow freeze up, and I followed them down the hole." Bree explained.

Lupin stared at her. "Right well… I was watching the map and saw Bree, Harry, Ron, and Hermione running after someone.

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, pacing. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" said Harry.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black… I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow."

"One of us!" Ron said angrily.

"No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you."

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Bree.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?"

Lupin moved closer to Bree. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"

"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in.

"You're both mental."

"Ridiculous!" said Hermione faintly.

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively.

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me… not this time, though!"

"If you do you'll just go back to Azkaban, if the Dementors don't kiss you first." Bree stated.

"You can't honestly believe them. They're mad!" Hermione exclaimed

Bree tilted her thoughtfully. "Well… then I guess I'm mad too." And with that she stood up and gave the rat to Professor Lupin.


	21. Year Three: The Rat Revealed

**One more chapter until Third Year is over.**

* * *

Scabbers began to squeak without stopping, twisting and turning, his tiny black eyes bulging in his head. "Ready, Sirius?" said Lupin.

Black approached Lupin and the struggling rat, and his wet eyes suddenly seemed to be burning in his face.

"Together?" he said quietly.

"I think so", said Lupin, holding Scabbers tightly in one hand and his wand in the other.

"On the count of three. One — two — THREE!"

A flash of blue-white light erupted from both wands; for a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small gray form twisting madly — Ron yelled — the rat fell and hit the floor. There was another blinding flash of light and then…

It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. Crookshanks was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on his back was standing up.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. His skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers' fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. He looked around at them all, his breathing fast and shallow. Harry saw his eyes dart to the door and back again.

"Well, hello, Peter," said Lupin pleasantly, as though rats frequently erupted into old school friends around him.

"Long time, no see."

"S—Sirius… R—Remus…" Even Pettigrew's voice was squeaky. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends… my old friends…"

Black's wand arm rose, but Lupin seized him around the wrist, gave him a warning look.

Bree heard the stairs creak. "The stairs are creaking. Last time they did that these three showed up." she stated, gesturing toward Harry' Ron, and Hermione.

All eyes fixed on the door. After a few moments it opened. It was Snape. Black leaned over and whispered "What's he doing here?" to Lupin. "He's a teacher." Lupin replied.

Snape glanced at everyone in the room before his eyes locked on Peter.

"Pettigrew. How are you alive?" he sneered,

"He's been hiding as Ron's pet rat." Bree explained.

"But Black was the Secret Keeper." Snape stated.

"I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me…

I'm to blame, I know it… The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. Yet there was no sign of a struggle. It didn't feel right. I was scared. I set out for your parents' house straight away. And when I saw their house destroyed, and their bodies… I realized what Peter must've done… what I'd done…"

His voice broke. He turned away.

"It's not your fault. You didn't know that Pettigrew was a backstabbing piece of scum." Bree murmured.

"Remus," gasped Pettigrew, beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you…? He tried to kill me, Remus…"

"So we've heard," said Lupin, more coldly. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'll be so —"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Pettigrew squeaked suddenly, pointing at Black. He used his middle finger, because his index was missing. "He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too… You've got to help me, Remus…"

Black's face looked more skull-like than ever as he stared at Pettigrew with his fathomless eyes.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," said Lupin.

"Sorted things out?" squealed Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again, the only door. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

"You knew Black was going to break out of Azkaban?" Snape snarled. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew shouted shrilly. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Black started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks?" he said.

Pettigrew flinched as though Black had brandished a whip at him.

"What, scared to hear your old master's name?" said Black. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius." muttered Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now.

"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years," said Black. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter… They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them… I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information… and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways. If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter…"

"Don't know… what you're talking about…" said Pettigrew again, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up at Lupin. "You don't believe this — this madness, Remus."

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," said Lupin evenly.

"Innocent, but scared!" squealed Pettigrew. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban — the spy, Sirius Black!"

Black's face contorted.

"How dare you," he growled, sounding suddenly like the bearsized dog he had been. "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter — I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us… me and Remus… and James…"

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath.

"Me, a spy… must be out of your mind… never… don't know how you can say such a —"

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. "I thought it was the perfect plan… a bluff… Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you… It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Pettigrew was muttering distractedly; Harry caught words like "far-fetched" and "lunacy," but he couldn't help paying more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's face and the way his eyes continued to dart toward the windows and door.

"Professor Lupin?" said Hermione timidly. "Can — can I say something?"

"Certainly, Hermione," said Lupin courteously.

"Well, Scabbers , I mean, this, this man, he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?"

"There!" said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Ron with his maimed hand. "Thank you! You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?"

"I'll tell you why," said Black. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him…"

Pettigrew opened his mouth and closed it several times. He seemed to have lost the ability to talk.

"Er, Mr. Black, Sirius?" said Hermione.

Black jumped at being addressed like this and stared at Hermione as though he had never seen anything quite like her.

"If you don't mind me asking, how, how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you!" gasped Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I —"

But Lupin silenced him with a look. Black was frowning slightly at Hermione, but not as though he were annoyed with her. He seemed to be pondering his answer.

"I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent. That wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me… but it kept me sane and knowing who I am… helped me keep my powers… so when it all became… too much… I could transform in my cell… become a dog. Dementors can't see, you know…" He swallowed. "They feel their way toward people by feeding off their emotions… They could tell that my feelings were less — less human, less complex when I was a dog… but they thought, of course, that I was losing my mind like everyone else in there, so it didn't trouble them. But I was weak, very weak, and I had no hope of driving them away from me without a wand…

"But then I saw Peter in that picture… I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry… perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again…"

Pettigrew was shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but staring all the while at Blackas though hypnotized.

"… ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies… and to deliver the last Potter to them. If he gave them Harry, who'd dare say he'd betrayed Lord Voldemort? He'd be welcomed back with honors…So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive…"

Harry remembered what Mr. Weasley had told Mrs. Wealsey. "The guards say he's been talking in his sleep… always the same words… 'He's at Hogwarts.'"

"It was as if someone had lit a fire In my head, and the Dementors couldn't destroy it… It wasn't a happy feeling… it was an obsession… but it gave me strength, it cleared my mind. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog… It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused… I was thin, very thin… thin enough to slip through the bars… I swam as a dog back to the mainland… I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did, Harry…"

He looked at Harry, who did not look away.

"Believe me," croaked Black. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would have died before I betrayed them."

And at long last, Harry believed him. Throat too tight to speak, he nodded.

"No!"

Pettigrew had fallen to his knees as though Harry's nod had been his own death sentence. He shuffled forward on his knees, groveling, his hands clasped in front of him as though praying.

"Sirius, it's me… it's Peter… your friend… you wouldn't."

Black kicked out and Pettigrew recoiled.

"There's enough filth on my robes without you touching them," said Black.

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Lupin instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. "You don't believe this, wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," said Lupin. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head.

"Forgive me, Remus," said Black.

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend," said Lupin, who was now rolling up his sleeves. "And will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

"Of course," said Black, and the ghost of a grin flitted across his gaunt face. He, too, began rolling up his sleeves. "Shall we kill him together?"

"Yes, I think so," said Lupin grimly.

"You wouldn't… you won't…" gasped Pettigrew. And he scrambled around to Snape.

"Severus, please, You can't let them do this." He implored.

"You honestly think I would help you?" Snape growled.

Pettigrew turned to Ron. "Ron… haven't I been a good friend… a good pet? You won't let them kill me, Ron, will you… you're on my side, aren't you?"

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion.

"I let you sleep in my bed!" he said.

"Kind boy… kind master…" Pettigrew crawled toward Ron "You won't let them do it… I was your rat… I was a good pet…"

"If you made a better rat than a human, it's not much to boast about, Peter," said Black harshly.

Ron, his leg out of Pettigrew's reach. Pettigrew turned on his knees, staggered forward, and seized the hem of Hermione's robes.

"Sweet girl… clever girl… you, you won't let them… Help me…"

Hermione pulled her robes out of Pettigrew's clutching hands and backed away against the wall, looking horrified.

He turned to Bree.

"Don't even bother. I don't necessarily want you dead, but then again I wouldn't mind seeing you in excruciating pain." Bree growled before Pettigrew could address her.

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, and turned his head slowly toward Harry.

"Harry… Harry… you look just like your father… just like him…"

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" roared Black.

"HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Harry," whispered Pettigrew, shuffling toward him, hands outstretched. "Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed… James would have understood, Harry… he would have shown me mercy…"

Both Black and Lupin strode forward, seized Pettigrew's shoulders, and threw him backward onto the floor. He sat there, twitching with terror, staring up at them.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," said Black, who was shaking too. "Do you deny it?"

Pettigrew burst into tears. It was horrible to watch, like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine… I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me"

"DON'T LIE!" bellowed Black. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"He — he was taking over everywhere!" gasped Pettigrew. "Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?"

"What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?" said Black, with a terrible fury in his face. "Only innocent lives, Peter!"

"You don't understand!" whined Pettigrew. "He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Black and Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder, wands raised.

"You should have realized," said Lupin quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."

Hermione covered her face with her hands and turned to the wall.

"NO!" Harry yelled.

He ran forward, placing himself in front Pettigrew, facing the wands. "You can't kill him," he said breathlessly. "You can't."

Black and Lupin both looked staggered.

"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Black snarled. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know," Harry panted. "We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the Dementors… He can go to Azkaban… but don't kill him."

"Harry!" gasped Pettigrew, and he flung his arms around Harry's knees. "You, thank you, it's more than I deserve, thank you."

"Get off me," Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew's hands off him in disgust. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because, I don't reckon my dad would've wanted them to become killers, just for you."

No one moved or made a sound except Pettigrew, whose breath was coming in wheezes as he clutched his chest. Black and Lupin were looking at each other. Then, with one movement, they lowered their wands.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry," said Black. "But think… think what he did…"

"He can go to Azkaban," Harry repeated. "If anyone deserves that place, he does…"

Pettigrew was still wheezing behind him.

"They could still maim him. The human body can go through a lot before succumbing to death." Bree stated innocently. She wasn't sure but she thought she heard Snape mumble "Thank God you weren't in Slytherin."

Black looked hopeful.

"We're not maiming him." Harry stated firmly.

"Not even a little?"

"NO!"

"Well can we at least agree that he really deserves it?"

"Fine."

"Very well," said Lupin. "Stand aside, Harry."

Harry hesitated.

"I'm going to tie him up," said Lupin. "That's all, I swear."

Harry stepped out of the way. Thin cords shot from Lupin's wand this time, and next moment, Pettigrew was wriggling on the floor, bound and gagged.

"But if you transform, Peter," growled Black, his own wand pointing at Pettigrew too, "we will kill you. You agree, Harry?"

Harry looked down at the pitiful figure on the floor and nodded so that Pettigrew could see him.

"Right," said Lupin, suddenly businesslike.

"Two of us should be chained to this," said Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. "Just to make sure."

"I'll do it," said Lupin.

"And me," said Ron savagely.

"You seem to have forgotten so I'll remind you Lupin, tonight's the full moon." Snape said with a sneer.

"Right. So how about Professor Lupin stays here, and the rest of us take Pettigrew and run like hell." Bree suggested. She turned to Lupin. "No offends Professor, but I already got clawed by a Hippogriff this school year. I think I've fill my quota for the year."

"You didn't insult it, did you?" Sirius asked.

"No. I did however save the guy who did." Bree answered.

"Hello. Sun setting. Werewolf." Hermione said tensely.

"Right. Um. How about we knock Pettigrew out use a levitation spell to move him so he can't run." Bree suggested.

"Stupefy!" Black immediately shouted. The spell it Pettigrew and he was immediately unconscious.

"Okay then… Sirius, you should probably transform because the Dementors have a "Kiss-on-sight" order in regards to you." Bree said.

"I think I'll stay and keep Moony company." Sirius stated. At Bree's puzzled looked he explained "Werewolves only attack Humans, not animals."

"Okay. Professor, if you'd do the honors." Bree said to Snape.

"Mobilicorpus." Snape muttered. As though invisible strings were tied to Pettigrew's wrists, neck, and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling.

Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottlebrush tail held jauntily high. Muffin following right behind him.

Crookshanks and Muffin led the way down the stairs. Next came Pettigrew, drifting creepily along, his toes hitting each stair as they descended, held up by his Snape's wand. Harry and Hermione brought up the rear.

Getting back into the tunnel was easy. Crookshanks wand Muffin were still in the lead. Harry went right after Snape, who was still making Pettigrew drift along ahead of them; he kept bumping his lolling head on the low ceiling. Bree had the impression Snape was making no effort to prevent this.

They did not speak again until they had reached the end of the tunnel. Crookshanks darted up first; he had evidently pressed his paw to the knot on the trunk, because they were able to get out without being attacked by the willow.

The grounds were very dark now; the only light came from the distant windows of the castle.

"Well that was fun." Bree said as the group trudged up toward the castle.

"Fun? You think almost getting killed is fun?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"We weren't in any danger." Bree pointed out.

"You didn't know that!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Sure I did." Bree responded brightly.

"How?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"I'm psychic." Bree replied.

"You are not." Hermione stated.

Bree shrugged. "Trelawney thinks I am. Apparently staring blanking at a crystal ball without blinking a whole lot constitutes a trance." she explained as the group entered the castle.

Hermione sighed in an exasperated fashion.

* * *

**Raise your hand if you think Bree has a really odd definition of fun, oh and review.**


	22. Year Three: Fudge and a Train Ride

When they got to the Headmaster's office, Snape muttered the password and the gargoyle moved out of the way.

"What's this?" Dumbledore asked once the group was in his office.

"Sirius Black is innocent. Peter Pettigrew did it." Bree stated, pointing to the traitor in question.

"Oh dear." the Headmaster responded, popping a lemon drop into his mouth. "Is this true Severus?" he asked.

"Apparently." Snape replied.

"I'll contact the ministry right away." Dumbledore stated as he got up and made a floo call.

"They'll be here momentarily." Dumbledore stated when he was done. "Do any of you need to go to the hospital wing?" he asked.

"Later. I'm sure the Ministry will want to interview us." Bree answered. Almost as soon as she was finished several people came out of the floo, one after another. They were the Minister of Magic, a man and a woman Bree didn't recognize, a reporter, and… "Hi Tonks." Bree greeted brightly. Tonks waved.

"Where is he Dumbledore? Where is Sirius Black?" Fudge asked excitedly.

"Not here. But we have Peter Pettigrew. He killed people, framed his friend, and faked his death. I'm pretty sure those are all crimes." Bree answered. Fudge looked from Bree to Pettigrew, then to Dumbledore, back to Bree, then Pettigrew, then Bree, then Dumbledore.

"How?" he asked the Headmaster in a slightly strangled tone.

"I don't know. I was just sitting here in my office when they walked in. Perhaps we should ask them." Dumbledore answered. Fudge nodded dumbly. Dumbledore conjured up some extra chairs so that everyone could sit down, except for Pettigrew, who remained hanging limply in the air.

"Before we begin, I must tell you that I reserve the right to sue the paper for twisting my words and reporting anything that isn't fact." Bree stated. The reporter, who Bree had identified as Rita Skeeter, nodded.

And then the group told Fudge, Tonks, the man and woman that Bree learned were Kingsley Shacklebolt and Amelia Bones, Dumbledore, and Rita, everything.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair when they were finished. "This is all very troubling." he stated wearily.

"This is what happens when you send a man to Azkaban without trial." Amelia snapped. "Black should have been given Veritaserum."

"This injustice must be corrected." Dumbledore stated.

"Yes, well it will take months to arrange a trial, until then Black will have to return to Azkaban." Fudge said.

Just about everyone one in the room, including Dumbledore's Phoenix and several of the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses , turned to glare at him. It was Bree who spoke first.

"How are your political relations with America?" she asked.

"Fine." Fudge replied, not seeing were she was going with this.

"How do you think they would be if the American public found out that you kept an innocent man in Azkaban without trial and intended to send him back? They wouldn't like it. And I'm sure they would quickly tell inform every other country of the news." Bree said.

Fudge gulped. "You don't have any ties to America." he protested.

Bree stared at him. "Thank you for demonstrating your inability to recognized accents." she stated sarcastically.

"I'm a political headache waiting to happen. My Mom is an American citizen and my Dad is a British one. I was born in California and lived there 'til I was eleven, and I still make yearly visits there. Guess what that means for you." Bree said with a maniacal grin.

After this statement, in addition to pressure he received her Amelia and Dumbledore, Fudge agreed to arrange Sirius's trial ASAP.

* * *

173. I am not allowed to blackmail ministry officials.

* * *

When Bree, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the hospital wing at noon the next day, it was to find an almost deserted castle. The sweltering, heat and the end of the exams meant that everyone was taking full advantage of another Hogsmeade visit. Ron, Bree, and Hermione didn't feel like going, however, so they and Harry wandered onto the grounds, still talking about the extraordinary events of the previous night. Sitting near the lake, watching the giant squid waving its tentacles lazily above the water.

They found out later that Professor Lupin was resigning. He wanted to help Sirius recover from his years in Azkaban. Before leaving he gave Harry the map back.

The next day the Headline in the Daily Prophet read : **Sirius Black Innocent**. Later an evening addition of the Prophet said: **Peter Pettigrew escaped Ministry Custody**.

"I can't believe he got away." Bree muttered. "We should have broken his legs." she declared. Hermione rolled her eyes while Harry frowned and Ron looked angry.

Sirius's innocence and Pettigrew's escape was all anyone could talk about as the end of term approached.

Percy Weasley had much to say on the subject. "If I manage to get into the Ministry, I'll have a lot of proposals to make about Magical Law Enforcement!" he said.

"I hope one of those changes is making sure people get a trial _before_ getting sentenced to life in Azkaban." Bree commented.

Percy nodded. "Of course." he said. "Good ." Bree stated walked away.

The exam results came out on the last day of term. Bree had passed every subject. "Woo hoo! My Mom can't kill me now!"

Percy had got his top-grade N.E.W.T.s; Fred and George had scraped a handful of O.W.L.s each. Gryffindor House, meanwhile, largely thanks to their spectacular performance in the Quidditch Cup, had won the House championship for the third year running. This meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station the next morning, Hermione gave Harry and Ron some surprising news, that Bree overheard.

"I went to see Professor McGonagall this morning, just before breakfast. I've decided to drop Muggle Studies."

"Good. I've met the muggle studies Professor. She's a moron who wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a PDA and a MP3, even if they were both labeled." Bree stated.

* * *

269. Just because the Muggle Studies teacher teaches her students about outdated muggle technology doesn't mean I can call her a "Moron who wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a PDA and a MP3, even if they were both labeled."

* * *

"She's not that bad." Hermione said.

"What's a MP3 and a PDA?" Ron asked.

Bree glared at him. "Ron, stop saying things that make me want to hurt you." she said. Bree caught sight of Draco as she got onto the train and suddenly remembered something.

"Oh no." Bree murmured.

"What is it?" Ron asked

"I just remembered that I have to meet with the Malfoys this summer." Bree said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because she saved Draco from getting maimed by a Hippogriff." Fred answered from behind them.

"Now Draco owes her a debt." George explained.

"What does one wear to meet a muggle hating pureblood in order to discuss what kind of debt his son owes you?" Bree asked as she entered an empty compartment. NO one had an answer. Bree sighed.

"I don't know anything about proper etiquette either. What am I going to do?" Bree said in despair.

"Mum and Dad might be able to help." George suggested.

"We may not have much, but we are purebloods." Fred added.

Awhile later the conversation had turned elsewhere.

"Harry, you've got to come and stay with us. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now." Ron said.

"A telephone, Ron," said Hermione. "Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year…"

Ron ignored her.

"It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it, Harry? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

"I thought Harry was going to stay with his Godfather." Bree stated.

"Not until the healers release him from ST. Mungo's." Harry replied.

"So you'll be staying with the Dursley's until then I take it?" Bree asked. Harry nodded.

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly, peering over his shoulder. "What's that thing outside your window?"

Harry turned to look outside. Something very small and gray was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. He stood up for a better look and saw that it was a tiny owl, carrying a letter that was much too big for it. The owl was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the train's slipstream. Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it.

The owl dropped its letter onto Harry's seat and began zooming around their compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval. Crookshanks sat up in his seat, following the owl with his great yellow eyes. Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harm's way.

Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, and shouted, "It's from Sirius!"

"What?" said Ron and Hermione excitedly. "Read it aloud!"

Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post.

I meant to send you a letter sooner, instead of communicating through Remus, but the healers seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't remain in bed.

There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt —

"Ha!" said Hermione triumphantly. "See! I told you it was from him!"

"Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" said Ron. "Ouch!" The tiny owl now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.

– Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather.

I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you.

I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable.

I'll write again soon.

Sirius

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there.

I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends, the note read.

Harry looked back at Sirius's letter. "Hang on, there's a PS…"

I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat.

Ron's eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. "Keep him?" he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to everyone's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?"

Crookshanks purred.

"That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine."

"Do you think Pettigrew did anything to Ron while he was sleeping?" Bree asked suddenly. Ron choked.

* * *

391. Not allowed to wonder aloud if Peter Pettigrew did anything to Ron while he was sleeping.

* * *

Harry read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back into King's Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Ron, and Hermione stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters. Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Bree's father and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" Ron yelled after Harry as Harry bid him and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in his usual fashion.

"What's that?" he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another —"

"It's not," said Harry cheerfully. "It's a letter from my godfather."

"Godfather?" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Sure he has. Sirius Black? The escaped mass murderer? He's a wizard so dangerous that they decided to warn the non- magic folk. He loves Harry very much." Bree said to Vernon. A look of horror grew on his face.

"His Godfather's best friend is a werewolf." Bree added. Vernon no longer appeared to be breathing.

Bree hummed and followed her dad to the car.

* * *

61. I may not tell the Dursley's that Harry's Godfather is an escaped mass murderer that loves Harry very much, or that his Godfather's best friend is a werewolf.

* * *

**And now I'm going to have to do a scene where Bree meets with the Malfoy's... Not sure what i'm going to do with that.**

**Review Please!**


	23. Year Four: Rumor Has It

Lucious Malfoy was unhappy. His son had foolishly insulted a hippogriff and had been saved from it's talons by a Muggle-born. It that wasn't bad enough, the girl had been injured in the process, making the debt his family now owed her even more severe.

He had contacted Severus in order to obtain more information on the girl. Apparently the girl was manipulative, cunning, impulsive, disrespectful, and completely insane. She liked pranks. Her favorite target appeared to be Draco.

Draco didn't like the girl. Draco's owl, Aries, did. The damn owl refused to allowed anyone to remove the Gryffindor scarf the girl had given it for any reason other then to clean it. And then the owl would perch on the back of a chair and glare until the scarf was returned. Damn traitorous owl… And now he had to allow the girl and her Muggle parents into his home.

* * *

Bree was unhappy. She had to go to the Malfoy's house in order to talk about the debt they now owed her for saving Draco. She had saved the idiot's life, why was she being punished? Someone up there hated her. The worst part was, she had to go in a dress. A green and white striped dress along paired a white shawl that her Mother claimed she looked cute in. Her Mom wasn't even going, she had to work, why did she care if Bree was cute?

Bree and her Father arrived at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire at noon. A high, manicured yew hedge bordered the driveway on both sides. The driveway was perfectly straight, running through wrought-iron gates and straight up to the front door. There are was an expansive landscape. The garden had a fountain and white peacocks roamed the lawns.

Lucious and his wife, Narcissa, welcomed Bree and her Dad into their home. The house was luxuriously decorated, with a magnificent carpet and ornate, gilded furnishings. The two Smiths were led into the drawing room.

Bree was glad she had gotten information on proper manners from the Weasley's. Compliment the hostess on her home, even though with the Malfoys it's the house elves that maintain it. If tea is served, sip don't slurp, and no, you can't just tell them they don't owe you anything, magic decides when the debt is repaid, and if Draco refused to pay his magic would be stripped from him and given to Bree, and since he was his parents responsibility, their magic would be as well.

So now here she was in the Malfoy's drawing room, having finished her tea and made smalltalk with the Malfoys. At one point Mrs. Malfoy had inquired about the whereabouts of Bree's Mother. She'd been informed the Mrs. Smith had been unable to get off her shift at the hospital, which led to a discussion about what Bree's Mother's job was.

Draco sat between his parents and kept looking between Bree and her Father as if trying to figure out how the petite blond haired girl and the large dark haired man could possibly be related. Bree could understand his confusion. After all his parents looked like they could be siblings, and Draco took after both of them. Bree on the other hand, took after her Mother.

A one point Aries, still wearing his Gryffindor scarf, flew in from an open window, perched on the arm of Bree's chair, and demanded to be petted. Mr. Malfoy twitched t the sight, then asked Bree how she had managed to get the owl's loyalty.

Bree shrugged, causing the shawl to slip and reveal her scars. "I was just nice to him." she stated as she petted Aries head.

"Why don't you keep him?" Draco blurted out. Everyone stared at him.

"Why Draco that's a fine idea. Aries and Bree seem to have bonded, and such a gift is a good way to start repaying the debt we owe her." Narcissa stated. In truth she just wanted the owl out of the house. It's stare was unnerving and frightening. Lucious seemed to agree with his wife's sentiment.

Bree looked at her father with pleading eyes. He consented to her keeping the owl, if only to keep her occupied on the way home. She had developed a habit of talking non-stop that was rather annoying.

That settled, the Malfoys and the Smiths agreed that the best way to handle the debt would be to wait until Bree actually had a problem, whether it be financial or some trouble with the law. Mr. Smith thought this was a fine idea as he thought it was highly likely that Bree would cause some sort property damage and get arrested sometime in her lifetime. This belief was largely due to the fact that the two times she had been left alone, she had managed to injure herself, _with fire_.

The visit over the Smiths bid the Malfoys goodbye and went home to prepare for their trip to Australia.

* * *

Bree's trip to Australia was interesting. Her Grandfather had had a large house built in Sydney. Bree had done some poking around and managed to find the city's magical community. She located a tabloid magazine and sold them a photo of Draco in a dress and fed them the rumor that was circulating about Draco's parentage, never mind that she had started the rumor. Bree was seventy- five galleons richer and the next day the magazine's had printed and article the said that not only was Lucious Malfoy _not_ Draco Malfoy's father, Draco Malfoy was actually a girl named Draconia, who was being forced to live as a boy because Lucious really wanted a son. The editor really hated the Malfoy's for some reason and Bree was glad that they had entered a magically binding agreement so the magazine couldn't reveal their source.

Bree had learned how to surf, she wasn't spectacular, but she had fun. The next day Bree Grandfather wanted to go skydiving. Bree and her mother went to the Sydney Aquarium instead. The fish there were stunning, and there was a magical section were Bree and her Mom saw creatures like lesser sea serpents and a bunyip which was a creature from Aboriginal mythology that lurked in swamps, billabongs, creeks, riverbeds, and waterholes and had a dog-like face, dark fur, a horse-like tail, flippers, and walrus-like tusks

There was a barbeque and Bree's Grandfather invited his neighbors. While the adults mingled, Bree and several neighbor children attempted to teach her grandfather's African Gray Parrot to play basketball. There were several trips to the beach, and of course a visit to the iconic opera house, and suddenly Bree found herself back in England.

* * *

When Bree returned to Surrey, she found an unfamiliar owl sitting on her bed having a staring contest with Aries. The contest halted when Bree approached and the newcomer stuck it's leg out in order to allowed Bree to take the letter that was tied to it. It was from Sirius.

**Hey there!**

**I'm getting out of the hospital in two days, then I'll be coming to free Harry from his awful relatives.**

**The final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday. The Ministry gave me prime tickets as part of the reparations for my imprisonment. Britain hasn't hosted the cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. This really is a once-in-a lifetime opportunity. I'm taking Harry and Remus with me. Ask your parents if I can come.**

**Sirius**

* * *

**Dear Sirius, **

**Glad to hear you're finally getting out of the hospital. My parents say I can come to the Quidditch World Cup. See you in two days.**

**Bree**

* * *

Two days later, Sirius, who was looking younger and healthier then the last time Bree had seen him, and Remus, whose clothes appeared to be of better quality then before, were at Bree's front door. Mrs. Smith answered the door.

"You're Harry's Godfather?" she asked Sirius.

"Yep. We're going to get him next." Sirius answered. Bree came down with her suitcase, but Roman got to the door first. He appeared to know you was going on and sniffed Sirius and Remus as if judging them. He seemed to find whatever quality he was looking for in them and let Bree out of the house. Mrs. Smith gave Bree and hug and whispered "Behave" in her ear.

"Harry said that your dog was big, but I didn't think it was that big!" Sirius declared as they made their way to the Dursley's.

"All the better to frighten the Dursley's with." Bree stated.

Sirius grinned. "I think you and me are going to get along just fine." he said happily.

Remus sighed.

When they arrived at the Dursley's, Vernon answered the door.

"Man the harpoons." Bree muttered. Sirius stifled a laugh. Bree grinned maliciously at Vernon.

"Boy get down here!" he bellowed up the stairs. Harry came down. He look surprised to see Sirius and Remus there.

"Sirius! What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Get you things, pup, we're getting out of here." Sirius said.

Bree looked at Remus. "Did Harry know that you two were coming to get him today?" she asked.

"Sirius was supposed to tell him." Remus answered.

"So that's a no then." Bree stated.

* * *

601. Not allowed to tell people to "Man the harpoons" whenever I see Harry's uncle or cousin.

* * *

They arrived at a fancy hotel. (Sirius refused to stay at his ancestral home until it was de-darkified). Sirius got gotten a suite and everyone was able to have their own room. Bree had gotten a massage from the hotel spa and a steak for dinner. Everything was paid for by Sirius. He gained a significant amount of money form reparations from the Ministry, and had control of both the Black and Lestrange family fortunes since his cousin Bellatrix had married Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and his brother were all in Azkaban and their were no other Lestranges to lay claim to the vault. Sirius seemed determined to spend as much of it as humanly possible.

Bree woke up the next morning before anyone else. She couldn't get back sleep and went out to the suites living room where she dozed on the couch until Remus and Harry came out. Remus got Sirius out of bed with a well aimed stinging hex, then they all ate breakfast and left.

They arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho

Sirius talked to the man in the poncho and he directed them toward their campsite. On their way they encountered Cedric Diggory and his father Amos.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

"These friends of yours, Ced?" Amos asked.

"This is Bree and that's Harry."

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Er - yeah," said Harry.

Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory. "Told us all about playing against you last year… I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will… You beat Harry Potter!"

Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. "I told you… it was an accident…"

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman… but the best man won, I'm sure Harry says the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

Bree glared at Amos. "Well you certainly seem to be ignoring the extenuating circumstances." she said dryly.

"Well Cedric wasn't effected by the dementors." Amos argued.

Bree rolled her eyes. "Dementors force people to relive their worst memories. What's the worst memory Cedric's ever had? A bad hair day?" she snarled.

Amos looked very offended.

"Okay, time to go." Remus stated, pulling Bree and a rather smug looking Sirius away.

"Your Mother was a hamster and your Father smelled of elderberries!" Bree shouted as she was dragged away.

* * *

The group was approaching their campsite.

"Are you sure we can't adopt her?" Sirius asked for the fifth time.

Remus was growing increasingly exasperated. "No. She's not an orphan and her parents don't want to get rid of her."

"Yet." Bree interjected. Remus ignored her. "So you can't adopt her." he stated.

Sirius pouted. "Not even a little bit?" he begged.

"How in the name of Merlin would you adopt someone a little bit?" Remus asked incredulously.

"You know what, never mind." he said when it looked like Sirius was going to answer.

They arrived at all the empty campsite and Sirius pulled out a small squareish object, and waved his wand. The square exploded into purple smoke. When the smoke cleared a three story purple tent was standing in the previously empty campsite.

"Oh yes, because that's not conspicuous at all." Bree deadpanned. Then to Remus she said "I take it Sirius bought the tent."

Remus nodded. "You know Lily and I always had to pick out his clothes whenever we went anywhere muggle. Same with James."

"Oi! We weren't that bad!" Sirius protested.

"Yes. Yes you were, and I have that pictures to prove it." Remus stated.

"Speaking of pictures, has anyone seen the Australia tabloids lately?" Bree inquired. The three males gave her funny looks.

"What did you do?" Harry asked slowly.

"Well you now that picture of Draco I have?" Bree asked.

"The one where he's in a dress?"

Bree nodded. "I sold it to this one magazine and I gave them that rumor that's been going around about Draco's parentage."

"The rumor you started."

"Details. Anyway, they turned it into this story about how Draco is actually the daughter of Severus Snape who's being forced to live as a boy by Lucious. And also something about Lucious being unable to Father children which is why he didn't get a divorce."

Sirius bent over laughing hysterically. Remus chuckled. Harry tried and failed to suppress his laughter.

* * *

Bree and Harry found the Weasley's tent a little ways away. Mr. Weasley was attempting to start a fire. It wasn't going well, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he exclaimed as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

Bree quickly got tired of watching Mr. Weasley's attempts to start a fire and finally took matters into her own hands.

The fire was burning brightly when Ron and Hermione appeared, carrying water with them.

"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.

"Met a few people," Ron answered, setting the water down.

"Hey Harry. We saw Oliver. He's been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team." Ron said, which started a big discussion amoung the boys about Quidditch that Bree wanted no part of, so she went to help Mr. Weasley cook lunch.

* * *

They had just finished cooking eggs and sausages when Percy and two other redheads came strolling out of the woods toward them. Bree knew right away who the two new redheads must be. Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers. Mr. Weasely introduced them.

Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it. He had probably gotten it working with dragons in Romania.

Bill was - there was no other word for it - cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that his boots were made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them.

"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed, but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming… and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements… Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched.

"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny and Fred and George's friend Bree Smith. Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. That's Harry's Godfather, Sirius Black, and his friend Remus Lupin."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes.

"I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little

Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh… go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well… any other takers?"

"Three hundred Galleons on Bulgaria." chimed it Sirius.

"You think Bulgaria will win?" Remus asked.

"No." Sirius answered.

"Anyone else?" Bagman inquired.

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.

"Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting… That's all your savings… Your mother -"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly.

"They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance… I'll give you excellent odds on that one… We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we…"

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…"

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.

"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha… memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. It was very apparent Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of halfbow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."

Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.

"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"_Muggles use brooms too._" Bree thought to herself.

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve - but that was before carpets were banned, of course."

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.

Ludo Bagman looked shocked.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun… Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to took forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.

"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me - I'm commentating!"

He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said , smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

Bree found a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action… slow everything down… and they flash up a play-by- play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."

Bree bought a pair for herself and two for the twins, who had given all their money to Bagman.

"Where did you get the money for these?" Fred asked.

"Australia." Bree answered.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

* * *

**Okay, now I know some of you probably expected complete chaos at the Malfoy's, but Bree's not about to do anything in front of her Dad, he'd tell her Mom.**


	24. Year Four: Fun and Terror

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Bree could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again… bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows.

Everyone filed into their seats. Bree sat between the twins.

Below them a hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Bree's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer… Mrs. Shower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!… Gladrags Wizard wear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade…

Bree was distracted from all this when she heard Harry say "Dobby?" Bree turned to where Harry was looking.

A tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands.

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato. It wasn't Dobby – it was, however, unmistakably a house-elf, as Harry's friend Dobby had been. Harry had set Dobby free from his old owners, the Malfoy family.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby's had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, Bree knew, from all the time she had spent in the kitchens, that this house elf was female. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from Harry, they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf.

She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir - and you, sir -" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why?" said Harry, taken aback. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," said Winky sadly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?" said Harry.

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

"Paying?" said Harry blankly. "Well - why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Harry, frowning.

"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back to the others.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently.

"He's the one that tried to save your life by breaking your arm with a bludger, right?" Bree asked.

"What!" Sirius exclaimed from behind her.

"Second year. Dobby hexed a bludger and broke Harry's arm. Harry still caught the snitch though, with his other hand, so he didn't have either hand on the broom and he crashed a little bit." Bree explained. Sirius looked increasingly horrified the whole time the blond was speaking. Remus was gaping.

"But Madam Pomfrey fixed him right up, right?" Sirius said.

"Yeah, she gave him skel-a-grow and his arm was better the next morning." Bree stated.

"Hold on. Why would need skel-a-grow, that's used for regrowing bones, not healing broken ones?" Remus asked.

"Lockhart vanished all the bones in Harry's arm." Fred explained.

"Gilderoy Lockhart?" Sirius asked. The kids all nodded.

"What was he doing there?" Sirius questioned.

"Teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." George stated.

"Who thought _that _was a good idea?" Sirius said incredulously.

"Dumbledore." Bree stated.

"Must be why his name has the word "dumb" in it." Sirius muttered.

Bree grinned. Hermione glared at her.

"What? I didn't say it." Bree said.

* * *

117. I am not to point out that Dumbledore's name has the word dumb in it.

* * *

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.

"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English.

"Harry Potter… oh come on now, you know who he is… the boy who survived You-Know-Who… you do know who he is -"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat… Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places… ah, and here's Lucius!"

Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco; his wife Narcissa.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic.

"How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other and Harry vividly recalled the last time they had come face-to-face: It had been in Flourish and Blotts' bookshop, and they had had a fight. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had turned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him.

"Hi Mr. Malfoy!" Bree said cheerily.

Lucious turned to her. "Yes. Hello Miss Smith. How was your holiday in… Australia I believe it was?" he asked.

Bree nodded. "It was fun. Saw a lot of things. Learned why it's a good idea to be aware your proximity to jellyfish when swimming in the ocean. Some guy swarm in a Portuguese Man of War. Except in Australia they call them Blue Bottles, and actually they aren't so much jellyfish as they are a colony that forms a jellyfish like organism and… and this is usually the part when Mom tells me to stop talking, so I'm going to shut up now."

Lucious looked relieved.

Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

Veela looked like very beautiful blond women. A hundred of them were now gliding out onto the field, then the music started.

The veela had started to dance. The males all stared transfixed. Bree waved a hand in front of George's face. No reaction. Then Harry and Ron made like they were going to jump into the stadium.

The music stopped.

Angry yells were filling the stadium. Ron was absentmindedly shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.

"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."

"Huh?" said Ron, staring openmouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

Hermione made a loud tutting noise.

She reached up and pulled Harry back into his seat. "Honestly!" she said.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it –

"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Bree realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

"There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars. Bree quickly focused her own.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field.

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache to rival Uncle Vernon's, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch.

With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as Bree had never seen it played before. He was pressing his Omnioculars so hard to his glasses that they were cutting into the bridge of his nose. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

"What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" shouted Hermione, who was dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air while Troy did a lap of honor around the field.

Harry looked quickly over the top of his Omnioculars. The leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

The Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on Harry's chest kept squeaking their names: "Troy - Mullet - Mo ran!" Bree found herself very glad she hadn't bought one. It was kind of annoying. Within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the greenclad supporters.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration.

After a few seconds, the veela had stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman. One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes.

"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course…"

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything Harry had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals.

They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Breedidn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told him it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing — excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

As one, the Weasley boys and Harry stuffed their fingers into their ears, but Hermione, who hadn't bothered, was soon tugging on Harry's arm. He turned to look at her, and she pulled his fingers impatiently out of his ears.

"Look at the referee!" she said, giggling.

Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; Harry, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before… Oh this could turn nasty…"

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms… yes… there they go… and Troy takes the Quaffle."

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green. "Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders - "And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. The Quaffle changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians.

The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov - The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

Bree wanted someone to realize that Krum was injured; even though she was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ron obviously felt the same.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Harry was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing…

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!" Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on… but Krum was on his tail. There were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again -

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Lynch is!" yelled Harry.

And he was right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good… He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all…

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess…"

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind Harry. He looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

"Oh, I like you." Bree said with a grin.

She stuck her hand out. "Hi, my name is Bree Smith. I'm a political headache waiting to happen. Well, for him" Bree nodded toward Fudge "and America. Dual citizenship. Things have the potential to get very messy."

The Bulgarian Minister shook Bree's hand firmly. "Ivan Obolensky." he introduced.

* * *

658. I am not to introduce myself to Ministry workers by saying "Hi, my name is Bree Smith. I'm a political headache waiting to happen."

- nor am I to introduce myself to foreigners in this fashion.

* * *

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

Bree's eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Bree noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Harry's hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that… shame it couldn't have lasted longer… Ah yes… yes, I owe you… how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

* * *

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed.

Sirius, Remus, Harry, and Bree, went back to Sirius's purple monstrosity. Bree had a room to herself. The "walls" of the room were made of draping purple fabric. The was a four poster bed, a bedside table and a wardrobe. Bree changed into her pajamas and slipped into bed. From the other side of the campsite she could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

* * *

Bree found herself being shaken awake by Remus. "What's going on?" she asked.

Dimly, she could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. She could hear screams, and the sound of people running.

"No time, - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

Bree did as she was told and hurried out of the tent. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, she could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Their heads were hooded and their faces masked.

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.

Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Occasionally one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Bree recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick…"

For a moment Bree wondered how they'd managed to get over to the Weasleys campsite.

Hermione and Ginny came hurrying toward them, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr. Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley, Sirius, and Remus tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Bree and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air.

In the confusion, Bree got separated from her friends. The mass of panicking people slowed her progress. In trying to avoid colliding with anyone, Bree lost track of her footing. She stumbled into a path of uneven ground, she felt her foot twist in an unnatural way, pain shot through her leg. She fell to the ground. To avoid being trampled she moved back into the tents. She found herself in the smoldering remains in one of the tents that had been attacked. She hid inside the part of the tent that was still standing.

The hooded wizards were moving closer. Bree could here her heart pounding in her ears as she tried to remain as still and quiet as possible. Soon the hooded wizards were parallel to the tent and Bree was praying that the remains and the darkness would be enough to hide her. Her hopes were dashed when she locked eyes with one of them. It was a very long moment, one that seemed like hours when really it was only a second. Bree couldn't see the wizard's face, but was able to see a lock of white blond hair. Bree could feel the natural magic of the earth tingle against her skin. As she stared at the wizard her was sure he could feel it too.

"_You can't hurt me Lucious, not while you owe me. Not unless you want to lose your magic to me."_ Bree thought fiercely. Lucious moved on. The tingling stopped and Bree felt relief flood her body. Emotion overwhelmed her and she began to cry. But it wasn't over.

Something vast, green, and glittering flew up over the nearby treetops and into the sky. It was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. It rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

The wood erupted with screams. The hooded figures all disappeared with a crack and the Roberts family began to fall. The Ministry Wizards caught them. Bree moved out of her hiding place.

"Who's there!" one of the Ministry Wizards shouted. Bree found half a dozen wands pointed at her.

"Wait!" someone shouted. "That's Bree!" It was Charlie. He was uninjured but his shirt was ripped.

"Bree?" the nearest wizard questioned.

"Bree Smith. She's a Hogswarts student." Charlie answered.

"Why isn't she in the wood with everyone else?" the wizard asked.

"Hurt my ankle. Can't walk. Got out of the way." Bree said, trying to keep her voice steady through her tears.

"So they all got away then. Disapparated as soon as the mark went up." the Ministry Wizard muttered.

Charlie came and helped Bree off the ground. He helped her walk back to the tents. They met up with Bill and Percy along the way. Bill's arm was bleeding and Percy had a bloody nose.

Fred, George, and Ginny got back to the Weasley's tent a few minutes after Bree, Charlie, Bill, and Percy did. Sirius and Remus showed up a little while later. When they found that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still gone they set out to look for them.

A few minutes later there was a commotion outside. Charlie investigated.

"Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others -"

"I've got them here," said Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered after him.

"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley. "We found Barry Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" said Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"Harry's wand?" said Fred.

"Mr. Crouch's elf" said Percy, sounding thunderstruck.

Sirius and Remus came back and, with some assistance from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Mr. Weasley explained what had happened in the woods. Apparently Harry had dropped his wand before getting to the woods. Someone had picked it up, brought it into the woods and used it to cast the dark mark, them dropped it. Mr. Crouch's elf, Winky, picked it up. Since Winky had left the tent against orders and since house elves weren't allowed to be in possession of a wand, Crouch had fired her.

When the story was finished, Percy swelled indignantly.

"Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to… embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry… how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control"

"She didn't do anything - she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy - better, indeed, than any of the others.

"She didn't do anything - she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy - better, indeed, than any of the others.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" said Percy pompously, recovering himself.

"She didn't run amok!" shouted Hermione. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone… Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "Of course people panicked… it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky…"

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr. Weasley. "The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside…" Mr. Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear… the very worst."

There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Roberts family before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said Bill. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight - the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr. Weasley. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" said Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

Bree winced. She knew that Lucious had been there. She had seen him and knew that he had seen her but done nothing. Bree held no illusions about what had happened. She knew that he had to have considered harming her in order for magic to react the way it had, but there was no evidence that Malfoy had been there other then what Bree had seen, and Malfoy was rich enough to make an accusation go away. Bree didn't say anything.

"But what were Voldemort's supporters -" Harry began. Everybody flinched – like most of the wizarding world, the Weasleys always avoided saying Voldemort's name. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"For fun, Harry. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun." Sirius said in disgust.

"They probably had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them." Remus said.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" said Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," said Bill. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives… I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

"So… whoever conjured the Dark Mark…" said Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this… it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now… Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

Harry, Bree, Remus, and Sirius went back to their tent. Once back in bed. Bree fell into a fitful slumber.

* * *

**This is actually the second time I've used rule 117 in this story.**


	25. Year Four: First day and a Ferret

Bree arrived back and her house the next morning. Bree had told her Mother the World Cup had been "Exciting" and that "People will be talking about it for years."

Bree spent the next week being tutored by Chloe. Chloe would graduating from college during the upcoming year and planned to go into teaching. It had been arranged that she would still tutor Bree in the summer, but would no longer baby-sit, as Bree was a teenager and could probably be trusted not to set the house on fire. Probably.

* * *

Bree was sitting by herself in a compartment on the Hogwarts express when she heard a familiar voice approaching.

"… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do…"

Bree grabbed Malfoy by the arm and pulled him into the compartment, slamming and locking the door behind him so that his goons wouldn't follow. Draco looked dazed for a moment. Bree began to speak right as he came out of it.

"Tell your father that if I ever feel threatened by him or a member of his family again I will not hesitate to use the debt to rip the magic right out of all of you." she hissed.

Draco sneered. "You can't do that. Not unless we actually try to hurt you." he said.

Bree grinned, a malevolent gleam in her eye. "And what if I decide what I want to repay the debt is your magic. If you comply, you lose your magic, if you don't, you still lose your magic." And with that Bree opened the door and shoved Malfoy back out.

* * *

It was raining. It had been during the entire trip to Hogwarts, and when the train arrived the rain was coming down hard. Peeves was dropping water balloons on the heads of students in the entrance hall.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here.

Bree sat down next to Fred and George. She was wringing water out of her jacket when a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

"Hiya, Harry!"

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was something of a hero.

"Hi, Colin," Harry said warily.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Er - good," said Harry.

"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?"

"_As long as this one doesn't have camera…_" Bree thought to herself.

"Er - yeah, all right," said Harry. He turned back to Hermione, Ron, and Nearly Headless Nick.

Bree looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too. Apparently the defense teacher hadn't arrived yet.

The doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school - all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it hooked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited.

When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, 'I fell in the lake!' He looked positively delighted about it.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

A thousand years or more ago,

When I was newly sewn,

There lived four wizards of renown,

Whose names are still well known:

Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,

Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,

Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,

Shrewd Slytherin, from fin.

They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,

They hatched a daring plan

To educate young sorcerers

Thus Hogwarts School began.

Now each of these four founders

Formed their own house, for each

Did value different virtues

In the ones they had to teach.

By Gryffindor, the bravest were

Prized far beyond the rest;

For Ravenclaw, the cleverest

Would always be the best;

For Hufflepuff, hard workers were

Most worthy of admission;

And power-hungry Slytherin

Loved those of great ambition.

While still alive they did divide

Their favorites from the throng,

Yet how to pick the worthy ones

When they were dead and gone?

'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,

He whipped me off his head

The founders put some brains in me

So I could choose instead!

Now slip me snug about your ears,

I've never yet been wrong,

I'll have a look inside your mind

And tell where you belong!

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Harry stated, clapping along with everyone else.

"It sings a different one every year. You've just never been here to hear it." Bree explained.

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers.

Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide— -

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

"Course it is, if you're dead," snapped Ron.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table.

"We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

"We'll have to test them." Bree declared seriously.

"Have you traumatized enough First Years?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

Bree looked shocked. "Why Hermione, I haven't traumatized any first years, although there is a group of Second years that will never forget the first time they set foot in the Gryffindor common room." she said.

"You did that in their first year!" Hermione hissed.

"But they're not first years." Bree responded. Hermione gave up.

Finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away. "About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as Harry, Ron, and Hermione loaded their own plates.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"And once again Ron has failed to learn any manners over the summer. I pity the girl he ends up marrying." Bree commented dryly.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" Harry asked, through a sizable chunk of steak.

"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council - the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance – but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," said Ron darkly.

"Oh the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits—"

Clang.

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.

"There are house-elves here?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick.

"Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" said Hermione.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick.

"They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning… see to the fires and so on… I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops — sorry, 'Arry —" He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor."

And she refused to eat another bite. Bree believed that all Hermione was going to accomplish was convincing the house elves that she didn't like their food, but she didn't comment as she wanted to eat, not get into a fight with Hermione.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with dessert.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Fred and George were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Bree had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbhedore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it**. **

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time… no…" said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Bree could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table.

"The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons…"

"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.

"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George…"

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," said Ron.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly.

"Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older… Dunno if we've learned enough…"

"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice from behind Fred and George. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to — oops…"

Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was notoriously poor. Harry and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily.

"Shut it, you," said Ron, banging down its visor as they passed. They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

"Password?" the Fat Lady said as they approached.

"Balderdash," said George, "a prefect downstairs told me."

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and Bree distinctly heard her mutter "Slave labor" before she went up to the girls' dormitory.

Bree got into her pajamas and into bed. Someone - a house-elf, no doubt - had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.

Hermione, however, was very unhappy to discover the warming pan in her bed. Bree tried to drown out her tirade about slave labor and house elf rights by holding a pillow over her head.

* * *

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning. Bree examined the new course schedule at breakfast. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

"Why do you want to get yourselves maimed?" Bree asked.

"Oh, loosen up." Fred said.

"Dumbledore said they had made sure no one would get hurt." George stated.

"No. He said they'd made sure no one would get killed. So I'll ask again, why are you so determined to get maimed?" Bree said.

"The fame. The glory." Fred explained.

"The money." George added.

"Now money I can understand. But fame and glory… that would be annoying. Imagine being followed around by a dozen Colin Creevys. And besides, there are less dangerous ways to make money." Bree stated.

"This coming from a girl who went through a tunnel under the whomping willow and found a mass murderer at the other end." Lee muttered.

"I wasn't making money then, was I?" Bree replied.

"Hey look, Hermione's eating again." she said.

"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights." Hermione said haughtily.

"Yeah… and you were hungry." Ron said, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap - Neville almost alway forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall a barn owl landed on Draco Malfoy's shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home. Aries landed next to Bree and demanded to be petted.

"Why does he always come over here?" Lee asked, eyeing the owl warily.

"Why wouldn't he?" Bree responded as she petted the owl in question.

"It's Malfoy's owl." Lee answered.

Bree grinned. "Not anymore. Malfoy gave Aries to me."

"Why would he do that?" George asked.

"He's afraid of Aries." Bree replied.

"I can understand the feeling." Lee muttered.

* * *

Herbology was Bree's first class. Professor Sprout showed the class the ugliest plants Bree had ever seen. They looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus -"

"The what?" said Seamus Finnegan, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnegan, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus**." **

Next was Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely.

As the Gryffindors drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

Come again?" said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward. "Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.

"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"

"And why would we want to raise them?" said a cold voice.

The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.

Hagrid looked stumped at the question.

"I mean, what do they do?" asked Malfoy. "What is the point of them?"

Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly,

"Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each."

"First pus and now this," muttered Seamus.

Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Harry, Ron, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Bree couldn't suppress the suspicion that the whole thing was entirely pointless, because the skrewts didn't seem to have mouths.

"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me."

Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.

"Its end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.

"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding.

"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"

"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males… The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies… I think they might be ter suck blood."

"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy sarcastically.

"Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

* * *

Lunch was next, then Divination.

"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump.

A very thin woman with enormous glasses that made her eyes appear far too large for her face, Professor Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw him.

The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.

"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully to Harry. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas… most difficult… I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass… and perhaps sooner than you think…"

Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. Professor Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs very close to her.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle…"

She then started talking about Harry, who wasn't paying attention and appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep.

Harry!" Ron muttered.

"What?"

Harry looked around; the whole class was staring at him. He sat up straight.

"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on her words.

"Born under - what, sorry?" said Harry.

"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" said Professor Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated that he wasn't riveted by this news. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth… Your dark hair… your mean stature… tragic losses so young in life… I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

"No," said Harry, "I was born in July."

Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough.

Half an hour later, each of them had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at their moment of birth. It was dull work, requiring much consultation of timetables and calculation of angles.

* * *

Bree reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people lining up for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out from behind.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something. Bree looked on idly.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!"

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up.

"A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron…"

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy.

"So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry - both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy - "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Hypocrite." Bree muttered.

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.

BANG!

Several people screamed. There was a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry — at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No," said Harry, "missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.

"Leave - what?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Not you - him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain.

"Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach - Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall wealdy. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… Come on, you…"

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret."

Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.

"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it -"

"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"

"The best monment of your life? That's really quite sad. Although I must admit Malfoy makes a better ferret than he does a person." Bree commented.

Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed.

"Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening?" said Harry, watching her.

"Got to," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."

"But you told us Professor Vector -"

"It's not schoolwork," she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.

"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred. "Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Harry and Ron.

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He knows, man," Lee said, sounding like he was bit high on something.

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.

"Doing what?" said Harry.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred

"He's seen it all," said George.

"Mazing," said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

"We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice.

"Too bad. He must really be something if he's already started a cult." Bree stated. She gave Lee and the twins a look.

"He's hasn't asked you for money or told you to stop speaking to your relatives, has he?" she asked.

"No. Why?" Lee asked.

"Oh just thought I'd check." Bree answered.

* * *

**Right so I have a problem. I want to have Bree go to the Yule Ball, but I have bo idea what she should wear, or who she should go with. And since book four is when romantic relashinships start to develop I have to decide if I'm going to pair Bree with someone. So, please tell me what who think.**

**Review please!**


	26. Year Four: Somthing strange, like France

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron to Harry as they watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails.

"Because Moody turned his godson into a ferret." Bree answered, before Harry could.

"Snape is Malfoy's Godfather?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. It's interesting what you find out when bigoted purebloods owe you a debt." Bree replied.

The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.

"Been in the -"

"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher's desk. Bree took a seat close to the door, she had long since decided that it was the safest spot during the first lesson of a new teacher. She took out her copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon she heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. She could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."

The class returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark -"

"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled - the first time Bree had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile.

Ron looked deeply relieved.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago… Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore… One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So - straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you counter curses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

"So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Moody demonstrated the three unforgivable curses on spiders. The Imperius Curse gave the user total control of the victim. The Cruciatus Curse caused unimaginable pain in the victim. The demonstration of this curse made Neville Longbottom very uncomfortable. The last curse was Avada Kedavra: The Killing curse, which killed the victim instantaneously.

They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang - but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices –

"Did you see it twitch?"

"- and when he killed it – just like that!"

They were talking about the lesson as though it had been some sort of spectacular show.

"Sickos." Bree hissed as she passed by.

* * *

Bree found out after dinner that the twins were having trouble with Ludo Bagman. Apparently Bagman hadn't given them their winnings from the bet they made on the World Cup.

"Well you still have the money from Sirius right?" Bree said. The twins shook there heads.

"No. Bagman was holding onto all of the money during the game." Said George.

"So we haven't gotten anything." Fred finished.

"Ah, well tell Sirius. He'll probably help. He only made that bet to waste money. It upsets his Mother." Bree told them.

"Isn't his Mother dead?" the twins asked simultaneously.

"Yeah, but her portrait is spelled to the wall in the Black family home. They haven't found a way to get rid of it. Personally I think he enjoys yelling at it." Bree responded.

* * *

The next day Bree was accosted by Hermione. The bushy haired girl tried to get the blond to join her new organization S.P.E.W. The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.

"Our short-term aims are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about nonwand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented. Two Sickles to join." Hermione explained.

Bree stared at Hermione incredulously.

"Hermione, I wouldn't join if it were free." Bree responded.

"Don't you care about their rights." Hermione replied.

"They don't want rights. They don't want wages." Bree hissed.

"Well they don't know any better do they! They been indoctrinated.

"Oh, for the love of god. Next you'll be telling me that you've joined Friends of the Ood. No wait founded, you've founded friends of he Ood!" Bree exclaimed accusingly.

Hermione looked confused. "What are Ood?" she inquired.

"They like the cousins of house elves, only taller and with tentacles." Bree explained. Hermione sighed and walked away.

* * *

147. House elves are not related to the Ood.

148. Hermione is not the founder of "Friends of the Ood."

* * *

Later that day Bree ran into Draco alone in the hall.

"I told father what you said." the boy sneered. "He said that you're to nice, to Gryffindor, to carry out your threat."

Bree frowned. "I suppose I behave nicely with my friends. But…" Bree grinned predatorily. "You are not my friend." she hissed. She grabbed Draco by the tie and forced him to look her in the eyes.

"You," she began with a growl, "are an enemy that owes me a debt. By extension, your father is as well. Tell him this about me. In regards to my enemies. I am not nice. I am not merciful. I do not forget and I do not forgive." And with that, Bree released Draco and left.

* * *

Everything was rather calm over the next couple of weeks. Bree was waiting until the students from the foreign schools came until she did anything. Though she wasn't just sitting idle, she was planning what she would do. Lessons were becoming more difficult and demanding than ever before, particularly Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

To everyone's surprise, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them in turn, to demonstrate its power and to see whether they could resist its effects.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. They knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. One by one the students did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel.

Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "Imperio!"

Harry bent his knees, preparing to jump. For a moment it looked like nothing else would happen then Harry both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping - the result was that he'd smashed headlong into the desk knocking it over

Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody.

"Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"

Moody had insisted on putting Harry through his paces four times in a row. Once Harry could throw off the curse entirely it was Bree's turn.

"Imperio!"

It was the most wonderful feeling. Bree felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in her head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. She stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching her. And then something in the back of her head protested violently. No this wasn't right! Pain radiated out from the base of her skull the vague feeling went away, and Bree was suddenly well aware of everyone, especially Moody, looking at her.

"Good show there, Smith! You did even better than Potter!" he exclaimed. "Managed to shake it off the first time!"

"_But I didn't._" Bree thought. "_Something else did it for me and it hurts!_"

* * *

When class was dismissed, Bree, her head still hurting, headed straight for the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey fussed over her, muttering about how the Headmaster never should have hired Moody. She cast a few diagnostic charms on Bree, then gasped.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Bree asked.

"Well it's" Madam Pomfrey began to explain then she paused for a moment, a dazed expression on her face. Then she smiled brightly and said "Why nothing's wrong dear. You've just been studying a bit to hard." She gave Bree a pain relieving potion and a note, then sent her to her next class.

Bree was very confused. Madam Pomfrey had gasped hadn't she? She had been about to explain something important and then… no. Madam Pomfrey hadn't gasped. She hadn't been about to explain anything.

Bree arrived at transfiguration just in time to hear Dean Thomas exclaim "We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!"

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!" Professor McGonagall said.

Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself.

Bree handed the note to Professor McGonagall, then spent the rest of the lesson trying to figure out a way to smuggle out the hedgehog she was supposed to be working on. She was rather against turning living things into inanimate objects. Even though McGonagall assured her that the animals didn't feel anything and were perfectly fine once the spell was reversed, Bree refused to participate until McGonagall allowed someone to turn her into a desk so that she could tell them for certain that it was not painful or traumatizing.

Professor Trelawney told Harry and Ron that they had received top marks for their homework in their next Divination class. She read out large portions of their predictions, commending them for their unflinching acceptance of the horrors in store for them - but they were less amused when she asked them to do the same thing for the month after next; both of them were running out of ideas for catastrophes.

Meanwhile Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic, had them writing weekly essays on the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century. Professor Snape was forcing them to research antidotes. They took this one seriously, as he had hinted that he might be poisoning one of them before Christmas to see if their antidote worked.

Professor Flitwick had asked them to read three extra books in preparation for their lesson on Summoning Charms.

Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of their "project," suggested that they come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

"I will not," said Draco Malfoy flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book… I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

The Gryffindors roared with laughter. Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to the castle at the end of the lesson in high spirits; seeing Hagrid put down Malfoy was particularly satisfying, especially because Malfoy had done his very best to get Hagrid sacked the previous year.

When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found themselves unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Ron, the tallest, stood on tiptoe to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other two:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM

BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

"Only a week away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him…"

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," said Harry. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," said Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly.

"Yeah Ron. I mean, she likes you well enough." Bree said, then disappeared into the crowd before the statement had time to register.

* * *

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, the Triwizard Tournament.

Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves. The castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

On the morning of the thirtieth of October, the Great Hall had been decorated. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffiindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Bree sat down next to Fred and George, who were sitting apart from everyone else. They were still having problems with Bagman.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. As Harry, Ron, and Hermione came "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" Ron asked, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before…"

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History. Though, of course, that book's not entirely reliable. A Revised History of Hogwarts would be a more accurate title. Or A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."

"What are you on about?" Ron asked.

"House-elves!" said Hermione, her eyes flashing. "Not once, in over a thousand pages, does Hogwarts, A History mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

She had also taken to rattling around the Gryffindor common room every evening, cornering people and shaking the collecting tin under their noses.

"You do realize that your sheets are changed, your fires lit, your classrooms cleaned, and your food cooked by a group of magical creatures who are unpaid and enslaved?" she kept saying fiercely.

Some people, like Neville, had paid up just to stop Hermione from glowering at them.

Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs. Ron now rolled his eyes at the ceiling, which was flooding them all in autumn sunlight, and Fred became extremely interested in his bacon (both twins had refused to buy a S.P.E.W. badge). George, however, leaned in toward Hermione.

"Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not," said Hermione curtly, "I hardly think students are supposed to -"

"Well, we have," said George, indicating Fred, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're happy. They think they've got the best job in the world -"

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!" Hermione began hotly, but her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls. Aries swooped in and sat next to Bree.

"Hermione you're doomed to fail. The house elves don't want to be free. You cannot save those that don't want to be saved." Bree stated as she petted Aries.

"Dobby wanted to be free." Hermione argued.

"Oh yes. Because a house elf that thinks stealing a boy's mail, stopping him from getting on the train to school, and breaking his arm in order to save his life is a good idea _must_ represent the feelings and mindset of his brethren!" Bree exclaimed in an exaggerated show of sarcasm before storming out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

* * *

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front… no pushing…"

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Harry, standing between Ron and Hermione in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

"How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"I don't think so… not from that far away…"

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quiet as usual.

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers - "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large, much larger than a broomstick - or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks - was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid… it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer…

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

The door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars). It opened. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. A shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman Bree had ever seen in her life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Bree had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in her life, and that was Hagrid.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dort," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Bree, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime's horses, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads**. **

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job.

"Hagrid can handle anything."

"Zey are very strong…"

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron**.**

"I don't think they'd arrive in the same manner. It is a different school after all." Bree said.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then - "Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly. Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor… What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool… and then Bree saw the rigging…

"It's a ship!" she whispered in awe.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes.

Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle… but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Bree caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. It was Victor Krum.

* * *

So you're all probably wondering about what happened with Bree's reaction to the imperius curse, Madam Pomfrey acting as if something was wrong then forgetting, and Bree forgetting that Madam Pomfrey had acted worried. I'll tell you. It's a Doctor who crossover in the making. I wasn't planning on it until much, much later but I figured "Hey, I'm the author, I'll do want I want." The Doctor himself won't make an appearance for a while yet, but Bree will start to realize that what she thought was a t.v show is actually not.

Review please!


	27. Year 4: Weeping Angels Whispering Crack

As Bree re-crossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, she saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Bree gave him a funny look.

Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked - "Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me -"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"Idiots. He's gonna be here for awhile." Bree muttered.

Bree walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"Pathetic." Bree hissed.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looked very smug about this.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"Not our fault you didn't dress warmer." Bree growled.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down Karkaroff leaned forward at once and engaged him in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's French," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.

"That's so gross." Bree said, frowning at the black pudding and helped herself to the bouillabaisse.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Ron quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

"Yes." Bree answered before anyone else could. "First time since I've been here that I've gotten good food, without having to go on a strike."

"There's nothing wrong with the food here." George protested. Bree rolled her eyes.

"British food takes the scraps that the rest of the world throws out and either bakes it in a pie or stuffs it into a sausage." she replied.

"Like American food is any better." Fred mumbled.

"Chili, clam chowder, sweet corn, corn chowder, short cake, gumbo, Maryland style crab cakes, Louisiana style crabs cakes, and turkey, just to name a few." Bree snapped.

"You are American?" the French blond asked.

"Yes. And I'm sorry but the bol- the bul, ugh, sorry, I'm not good with French. Anyway, the soup is too good to give away." Bree answered.

The girl nodded and went back to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry without thinking. Cho happened to be sitting only a few places away from the girl with the silvery hair.

Bree smirked. "Gee, thanks Harry. Nice to know I'm okay" she said sarcastically.

George patted her on the shoulder. "You're American. You're in a different class." he said.

* * *

108. Not allowed to say "British food takes the scraps that the rest of the world throws out and either bakes it in a pie or stuffs it into a sausage." in front students from other schools.

* * *

The two remaining empty seats at the staff table had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime. "What are they doing here?" said Harry in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.

Bree recognized one of the desserts immediately as crème brulee. She claimed that dish for herself and threatened anyone who came near it with a fork.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces.

"The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —"

"The what?" Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged.

"- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen.

Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough…"

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

"Where is he?" said Ron, who wasn't listening to a word of this conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

But this query was answered almost instantly; they were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.

"Back to the ship, then," he was saying. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

Harry saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on. "Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy -"

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry stopped to let him walk through first.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him. And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar.

The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry too.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.

The color drained from Karkaroff's face as Harry watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

* * *

The next morning Bree followed Fred, George, and Lee down to the Great Hall. They'd taken an ageing potion and were eager to enter their names.

"Six galleons says it doesn't work." Bree stated.

"That's six galleons you'll be giving to us." George replied.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione when they arrived in the hall. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.

"What about Bree?" Harry asked.

"I'm not stupid. If I'm going to make an effort to get money I'm going to go with a sure thing, not a three to one chance." Bree responded.

"What about the fame?" Ron question.

"I want to be rich, not famous. Fame is stupid and annoying, and it makes people stupid and annoying." Bree stated.

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then - I'll go first -"

Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley - Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second it looked like it had worked. George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter. Bree decided to head to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Harry led the way over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those Hogwarts students of seventeen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean said. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington, shook his head in disgust.

"We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptuously.

"But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Harry.

"Course she is, can't see a beard, can you?" said Ron.

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

* * *

Bree was in the process of placing weeping angel statues around the school. They were made out of plaster, but looked like stone. Her plan was to move them around when no one was looking to make it seem as if they were alive. She had asked the twins and Lee Jordan to help and they had agreed.

Bree had already terrified a group of first years. She had pointed to one of the statues and said "Fascinating race, the Weeping Angels. The only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely. No mess, no fuss, they just zap you into the past and let you live to death. The rest of your life used up and blown away in the blink of an eye. You die in the past, and in the present they consume the energy of all the days you might have had, all your stolen moments. They're creatures of the abstract. They live off potential energy." Then she'd grinned at them stretched, and continued.

"The Lonely Assassins, that's what they used to be called. No one quite knows where they came from, but they're as old as the Universe, or very nearly. And they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved. They are Quantum Locked. They don't exist when they are being observed. The moment they are seen by any other living creature they freeze into rock. No choice, it's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn into stone. And you can't kill a stone. Of course, a stone can't kill you either, but then you turn your head away. Then you blink. Then, oh yes, it can. So don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and DON'T blink."

The first years had stared wide eyed at the statue after that and Bree had walked away.

* * *

661. Not allowed to place angel statues around the school, move them around when people aren't looking, then warn the students not to blink.

* * *

Bree put the last statue in place, then began heading for the great hall. It was almost time for the Triwizard Champions to be selected. She was halfway there when she heard whispers. She stopped and looked around. There was no one in the hall. There were no doors in this particular section off hallway. No rooms that the whispering could be coming from. No portraits that could be taking to one another… But there was a crack.

Bree walked over to the crack and pressed her ear against the wall. The whispering was loudest here. It didn't make sense. There was nothing on the other side of that wall but a two story drop. Backed away from the wall and looked at the crack. It seemed so familiar. A familiar crack in the wall. A familiar, frightening, crack in the wall. Bree moved away and continued to the great hall.

* * *

**English food. You really don't want to know whats in it.**

**Review please!**


	28. Year 4: That's not supposed to happen!

When Bree entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George - clean-shaven again - seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred as Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down.

"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, or because everyone simply wanted to hear who had been selected as champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness.

The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, blue-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting… A few people kept checking their watches…

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered, two seats away from Harry.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next…

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was a piece of paper.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out and seized the paper. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out - "Bree Smith."

Harry sighed in relief. "I nearly thought it was going to be me." He said. Bree would have glared at him, but she was in shock muttering "It wasn't supposed to work. How the hell did it work?"

Then the flames turned red again. Dumbledore caught the parchment that the Goblet spit out. "Harry Potter." he read.

Now it was Harry's turn to be in shock.

"Ha!" Bree exclaimed.

A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat. Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, openmouthed.

"I didn't put my name in." Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."

Both of them stared just as blankly back.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Bree Smith! Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Bree! Both of you, up here, if you please!"

"Go on." Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Fred and George forced Bree to stand up and she unhappily made her way to the teacher's table with Harry.

"Well… through the door." said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.

Harry and Bree went through the door out of the Great Hall and found themselves in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him. The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. A wizened witch flitted out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry and Bree walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

She thought they had come to deliver a message. Harry didn't know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the three champions. It struck him how very tall all of them were. Bree was staring at the wall, contemplating something.

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind then, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry and Bree by the arms and led them forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm.

"Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth and fifth Tri-wizard champions?"

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry to Bree and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "Zey cannot compete. 'Zey is too young."

"Well… it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as their names' came out of the goblet… I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage… It's down in the rules, you're obliged… They will just have to do the best They —"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy and zis little girl is to compete also!"

"I am not little." Bree hissed.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed three champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He gave a short and nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "Ogwarts cannot 'ave three champions. It is most injust."

"I didn't put my name down for Hogwarts." Bree interjected.

"What?" several people asked incredulously.

"I didn't put my name down for Hogwarts." Bree repeated.

"It's true." Dumbledore said as he examined the paper with Bree's name on it. "Apparently Miss Smith is representing "The Smith Academy of Mayhem."

"Of course she is." Snape muttered.

"That shouldn't have worked though. The Goblet was only supposed to accept contestants from one of the three schools." Mr. Crouch said.

"What school is Harry competing for?" Bree asked.

Dumbledore examined the parchment. "The American Institute of Magic." he answered.

Bree blinked. "Really? We have an institute? Where is it?" she asked.

"I believe that it is hidden somewhere within the Grad Canyon." Dumbledore answered.

"As fascinating as that is," Crouch interjected. "I believe that we should get back to the matter at hand.

"Ah yes. Miss Smith, how did you get past the age line?" Dumbledore asked.

"I didn't." Bree replied.

"But you just said that you put your own name in." Crouch argued.

"That's because I did put my name in, without help, and without getting past the age line." Bree responded coolly.

"That's not possible." Crouch said.

Bree grinned. "Oh but it is. It's so simple I can't believe no one else, not even "the greatest wizard of our age" thought of it." she said. Everyone stared at her.

"You really don't get it ay all do you? It wasn't me that had t get past the line it was the paper. I just had to stand on a chair just outside of the age line and toss pieces of paper into the Goblet. Of course I had to do it in the middle of the night so no one would see me." Bree explained.

"Pieces?" Professor McGonagall asked. "As in more than one?"

Bree nodded. "Yeah. I put in my name, both of the Weasley Twins, Percy- you know him Mr. Crouch, he works for you, but you always get his name wrong, even though you obviously know his father 'cause you're a jerk- Lee Jordan, my cat, my owl, and the dead basilisk in the chamber of secrets. I'm kinda surprised that the last one worked 'cause it wasn't an actual name it was just "the dead basilisk in the chamber of secrets." she said.

"Did you put Harry's name in the Goblet?" Dumbledore inquired.

"No. First, I would have put him under my school, and second, I don't use parchment. It smells funny and is soaked in poison. I don't use quills either. I have a ballpoint pen that looks like a quill." Bree said.

Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly.

"No," said Harry. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

"No!" Harry denied vehemently.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"It could be the girl who is lying." Karkaroff said.

"Mr. Crouch… Mr. Bagman," said Karkaroff, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our - er - objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front," said Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. He had dropped his unctuous tone and his smile now. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," said Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"

"- in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff.

"After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.

"Convenient?" said Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody." Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but his hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.

"Don't you?" said Moody quietly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, bowing to her. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," growled Moody, "but… funny thing… I don't hear him saying a word…"

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot. "E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"

"And those people are what I like to call, morons. There are easier ways to make money." Bree stated.

"Why did you put your name in the goblet if you didn't want to compete?" Snape growled.

"To prove that I could. It's not my fault that the goblet spat out five names instead of three." Bree replied.

"Smith is right. It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet…" growled Moody.

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" said Madame Maxime, throwing up her huge hands.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" said Moody. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament… I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category and then Smith added her own school…"

"Which I am seriously regretting, by the way." Bree interjected.

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly, "and a very ingenious theory it is - though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember…"

"Alastor!" said Dumbledore warningly. Harry wondered for a moment whom he was speaking to, but then realized "Mad-Eye" could hardly be Moody's real first name. Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction - Karkaroff's face was burning.

"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, speaking to everyone gathered in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Bree and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. Therefore, they will do…"

"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"

"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; Bagman, however, looked rather excited.

"I have a question." Bree said. "If I were to enter a coma would I have to compete?" she asked.

"No." Crouch answered.

"Okay, next question. How hard would I have to hit my head against that wall in order to knock myself into a coma?" she asked.

"No." said McGonagall.

"Well, shall we crack on, then?" Bagman said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"

Mr. Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.

"Yes," he said, "instructions. Yes… the first task…"

He moved forward into the firelight. He looked ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin that had not been there at the Quidditch World Cup.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," he told Harry, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I've left young Weatherby in charge… Very enthusiastic… a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…"

"Jerk." Bree muttered.

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. They were both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.

"Harry, Cedric, Bree, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left together. Bree followed.

The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality.

"So," said Cedric, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other again!"

"I s'pose," said Harry.

"Because a Quidditch game is _exactly _like a potentially deadly tournament." Bree said sarcastically.

"They changed the rules so no one will die." said Cedric.

"Doesn't mean that we won't get horribly maimed." Bree replied as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire.

"How did you get your name in?" Cedric asked, now speaking to Harry.

"I didn't," said Harry, staring up at him. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

"Ah… okay," said Cedric. Harry could tell Cedric didn't believe him. "Well… see you, then."

Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right and went down the stone steps beyond it. Bree and Harry went up the marble ones.

They passed through the hallway with the crack. Bree stopped. Harry, caught up in his own thoughts, didn't notice and kept going. Bree examined the crack. The whispers were louder.

"I'll tell you something funny." she murmured. "If you knock this wall down, the crack would stay put, cause the crack isn't in the wall. It's everywhere. In everything, it's a split in the skin of the world. Two parts of space and time that should never have touched... pressed together. Right here in the wall. The universe is cracked. The Pandorica will open. Silence will fall." She shook her head.

"And now I'm quoting Doctor Who. That's silly. It's just a TV show, and that's just a crack in the wall." she said.

"It's just a TV show…" she repeated. The whispers sounded louder than ever.

"Right?"

* * *

The fat lad wasn't alone in here frame. The wizened witch who had flitted into her neighbor's painting when Bree and Harry had joined the champions downstairs was now sitting smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before they had. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at them with the keenest interest.

"Well, well, well," said the Fat Lady, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"

"Balderdash," said Harry dully.

"It most certainly isn't!" said the pale witch indignantly.

"No, no, Vi, it's the password," said the Fat Lady soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Harry and Bree into the common room.

Next thing they knew, he was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half

deeply impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.

Bree frowned.

"I didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how -"

But Angelina had now swooped down upon him; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least Gryffindor -"

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.

"We've got food, come and have some -"

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast -" Harry protested.

Bree wrenched herself away for her housemates and headed for the dormitory. George grabbed her arm.

"Come on. Stay and celebrate." he said.

Bree glared at him. "I'm tired. I'm cranky. And I want to go to bed." she hissed. George let go of her and she went up to bed.

* * *

**Congratulations reviewers. You win. Bree's a part of the tournament. **

**The crack in the wall is getting creepier.**

**Review please!**


	29. Year 4: Bree hates Rita Skeeter Alot

**So you might notice in this chapter that Bree deals with being entered in the tournament differently then Harry. Harry is kind of confused and rather uncomfortable and Bree is irritated and kind of angry.**

* * *

On Sunday morning Bree walked into the Great Hall, then walked right back out because Sirius was there, yelling at Dumbledore. She went and had breakfast in the kitchens with the house elves. She spent the rest of the day in the kitchen in order to avoid the rest of the school, and then Sirius and Remus showed up. Sirius complained about Dumbledore, the Goblet malfunctioning, and the magically binding contract that forced Harry and Bree to compete in the tournament. Remus assured Bree that he and Sirius would help her and Harry anyway they could.

* * *

The following day Bree could no longer avoid the rest of the school.

The Hufflepuffs, who were usually on excellent terms with the Gryffindors, had turned remarkably cold toward the whole lot of them. One Herbology lesson was enough to demonstrate this. It was plain that the Hufflepuffs felt that Harry and Bree had stolen their champion's glory; a feeling exacerbated, perhaps, by the fact that Hufflepuff House very rarely got any glory, and that Cedric was one of the few who had ever given them any, having beaten Gryffindor once at Quidditch. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch Fletchley, with whom Harry normally got on very well, did not talk to him even though they were repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray - though they did laugh rather unpleasantly when one of the Bouncing Bulbs wriggled free from Harry's grip and smacked him hard in the face. Ron wasn't talking to Harry either. Hermione sat between them, making very forced conversation, but though both answered her normally, they avoided making eye contact with each other.

Bree had situated herself between Neville and Lavender so that she wouldn't have to deal with the Hufflepuffs that lesson. Her strategy worked for the most part, but Professor Sprout seemed cold, but then, she was Head of Hufflepuff House.

Care of Magical Creatures meant seeing the Slytherins. Predictably, Malfoy arrived at Hagrid's cabin with his familiar sneer firmly in place.

"Ah, look, boys, it's the champion," he said to Crabbe and Goyle the moment he got within earshot of Harry. "Got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he's going to be around much longer… Half the Triwizard champions have died… how long d'you reckon you're going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task's my bet."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, but Malfoy had to stop there, because Hagrid emerged from the back of his cabin balancing a teetering tower of crates, each containing a very large Blast-Ended Skrewt. To the class's horror, Hagrid proceeded to explain that the reason the skrewts had been killing one another was an excess of pent-up energy, and that the solution would be for each student to fix a leash on a skrewt and take it for a short walk. The only good thing about this plan was that it distracted Malfoy completely.

"Roun' the middle," said Hagrid, demonstrating. "Er - yeh might want ter put on yer dragon-hide gloves, jus' as an extra precaution, like. Harry - you come here an' help me with this big one…

Skrewts, Bree decided, were the spawn of the devil. The skrewts were now over three feet long, and extremely powerful. No longer shell-less and colorless, they had developed a kind of thick, grayish, shiny armor. They looked like a cross between giant scorpions and elongated crabs - but still without recognizable heads or eyes. They had become immensely strong and very hard to control. Every now and then, with an alarming bang, one of the skrewts' ends would explode, causing it to shoot forward several yards, and more than one person was being dragged along on their stomach, trying desperately to get back on their feet.

Professor Trelawney was predicting Bree's death with the same certainty that she predicted Harry's.

Snape and the Slytherins went out of their way to make Harry miserable during potions. They tried to do the same to Bree, but one glare, one predatory grin, and a mind game later, and they were all going out of their way to avoid her.

Someone in Hufflepuff had made badges that said SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY—THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION! And they would change their message to POTTER STINKS! They had tried to make one that insulted Bree but she had caught wind of it and, well, let's just say that the results weren't pretty.

At least the twins supported her.

* * *

One Friday morning Bree found Hermione staring at her.

"What?" Bree asked.

"What on earth are you wearing?" Hermione said. Bree looked down at herself.

"Red pleated skirt, black button up top, fingerless fishnet gloves, fishnet stockings, demonia gothika 101 boots, pyramid studded belt, pyramid studded cuff, chain bracelet, gold skull ring, leather choker, silver bat earrings, and a black cadet cap." Bree answered.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"It's my school's uniform." Bree explained.

"What!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, you see, since I'm representing the Smith Academy of Mayhem in the tournament, that means it an actual school, and, as the founder, I can pick the uniform." Bree told her.

Hermione groaned and walked away.

* * *

Bree was running a little late to potions. By the time she got to the dungeon, Harry and Draco were fighting.

"Funnunculus!" Harry yelled.

"Densaugeo!" screamed Malfoy.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles. Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione.

Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up. Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Ron had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Harry turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth, already larger than average, were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin - panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir -"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.

"- and he hit Goyle - look -"

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth - she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

It was lucky, perhaps, that both Harry and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time; lucky their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. He got the gist, however.

"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

Bree gave Snape her darkest, most predatory grin. One that she usually reserved for the Dursleys.

"Antidotes!" said Snape, looking around at them all, his cold black eyes glittering unpleasantly. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…"

He looked right at Harry when he said that.

And then there was a knock on dungeon door.

It was Colin Creevey; he edged into the room, beaming at Harry, and walked up to Snape's desk at the front of the room.

"Yes?" said Snape curtly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter and Bree Smith upstairs." Snape stared down his hooked nose at Colin, whose smile faded from his eager face.

"Potter and Smith have another hour of Potions to complete," said Snape coldly. "They will come upstairs when this class is finished."

Colin went pink.

"Sir - sir, Mr. Bagman wants them." he said nervously. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs…"

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, Smith, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidotes."

"Please, sir - they've got to take their things with them." squeaked Colin. "All the champions…"

"Very well!" said Snape. "Potter, Smith, take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Bree grabbed her bag, got up, resisted the urge to flip Snape the bird, and headed for the door. Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and followed.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Harry?" said Colin, starting to speak the moment the dungeon door was closed. "Isn't it, though? You being champion?"

Bree glared at the boy.

"Yeah, really amazing," said Harry heavily as they set off toward the steps into the entrance hall. "What do they want photos for, Colin?"

"The Daily Prophet, I think!"

"Great," said Harry dully. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Good luck!" said Colin when they had reached the right room. Harry knocked on the door and entered.

It was a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to Rita Skeeter, who was wearing magenta robes.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light.

A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching

Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

"Ah, here they are! Champions number four and five! In you come, Harry, Bree, in you come… nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment."

"Wand weighing?" Harry repeated nervously.

"We have to check that your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're your most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Bagman. "The expert's upstairs now with Dumbledore. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Rita Skeeter," he added, gesturing toward the witch in magenta robes. "She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet…"

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harry.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry and Bree before we start?" she said to Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know… to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is - if they have no objections?"

"Er -" said Harry.

"I…" Began Bree

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry's upper arm and Bree's wrist in a surprisingly strong grip, and she was steering them out of the room again and opening a nearby door.

"We don't want to be in there with all that noise," she said. "Let's see… ah, yes, this is nice and cozy."

It was a broom cupboard. Harry and Bree stared at her.

"Come along, dears. That's right - lovely," said Rita Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing Harry down onto a cardboard box. Bree refused to sit and leaned against the wall instead. Rita closed the door, throwing them into darkness. "Let's see now…"

She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair, so that they could see what they were doing.

"You won't mind, dears, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally…"

"A what?" said Harry.

Rita Skeeter's smile widened. Harry counted three gold teeth. She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

"Testing… my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter."

Harry hooked down quickly at the quill. The moment Rita Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment:

Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, who's savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations –

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag. Now she leaned toward Harry and said,

"So,… what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Er -" said Harry again, but he was distracted by the quill. Even though he wasn't speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake it left a fresh sentence:

An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes –

"Ignore the quill, Harry," said Rita Skeeter firmly. Reluctantly Harry looked up at her instead. "Now — why did you decide to enter the tournament, Harry?"

"I didn't," said Harry. "I don't know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn't put it in there."

Rita Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow.

"Come now, Harry, there's no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn't really have entered at all. But don't worry about that. Our readers love a rebel."

"If he says he didn't put is name in then he didn't put it in." Bree snapped.

Rita's attention was now on Bree. "I heard that you admitted to submitting your name. So how did you get past the age line?" the reporter asked.

"I didn't. It wasn't necessary. I didn't have to get past the line in order for my name to be submitted. The piece of paper with my name on it did. All I had to do, was stand outside the age line and toss the paper in." Bree explained.

"Why did you decide to enter the tournament?" Rita asked.

"I didn't want to be in the tournament. I put my name in the Goblet to prove that it could be done." Bree stated.

"Prove to who?" Rita inquired.

"Me. And if the Goblet had had done what it was supposed to and only picked from three schools instead of five-" Bree was interrupted by Rita.

"Five?"

"Harry's representing the American Institute of Magic and I put mine in for the Smith Academy of Mayhem. Which isn't a real school. Now as I was saying. If the Goblet hadn't flubbed up, then I would be the only one to know that I had put my name in, and I would have been satisfied with that." Bree explained.

"How do you feel about the tasks ahead?" said Rita Skeeter. "Excited? Nervous?"

"I haven't really thought… yeah, nervous, I suppose," said Harry.

"I'd rather be in a coma than deal with this." Bree said.

"Champions have died in the past, haven't they?" said Rita Skeeter briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"

"Well… they say it's going to be a lot safer this year," said Harry.

"They said we won't die. Doesn't rule out a gory maiming." Bree stated.

The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forward as though it were skating.

"Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you?" said Rita Skeeter, watching Harry closely. "How would you say that's affected you?"

"Er," said Harry, yet again.

"Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because - "

"I didn't enter," said Harry, starting to feel irritated.

"Can you remember your parents at all?" said Rita Skeeter, talking over him.

"No," said Harry.

"How do you think they'd feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

Bree looked down at words the quill had just written: Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our conversation turns to the parents he can barely remember.

"I have NOT got tears in my eyes!" said Harry loudly.

Before Rita Skeeter could say a word, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Harry looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard.

"Dumbledore!" cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight - but quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess Remover, and Rita's clawed fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her crocodile-skin bag.

"How are you?" she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

Rita Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed.

"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street -"

"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if two of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard."

Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Harry and Bree hurried back into the room. The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door. Harry sat down quickly next to Cedric. Bree sat next to Harry. Four of the five judges- - Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman- were now sitting at the velvet-covered table, where Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner. She slipped the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, sucked the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and placed it once more on the parchment.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Bree looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Bree had met Mr. Ollivander before - he was the wand-maker from whom Bree had bought her own wand over three years ago in Diagon Alley.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmm…" he said.

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it chose to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

So Fleur was part veela. Not really surprising.

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next." Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn… must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches… ash… pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition… You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

Bree giggled.

Next to her Harry had gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub his wand clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronizing look, and he desisted.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Mr. Ollivander, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I… however…"

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes… hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees… quite rigid… ten and a quarter inches… Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast hike a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," said Mr. Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. "Mr. Potter."

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander. He handed over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches."

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"And finally, Miss Smith." Bree walked over and handed Mr. Ollivander.

"Another one of mine." he said. "Phoenix feather. A rather temperamental phoenix too. She pecked me. Twelve inches, willow. Very resilient." He flicked it and several butterflies came out of it. They fluttered around the room before dissolving into glitter.

"Very good." he said, handing the wand back to Bree.

"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table. "You may go back to your lessons now - or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end-"

Harry got up to leave, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er - yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

"No. Group shots only. If you take individual shots you'll only use Harry's." Bree stated. Rita moved to protest bur Bree spoke first.

"You wouldn't want me to get a lawyer involved, would you Rita?" Bree asked in a tone that was sweet, but terrifying.

"No. Of course not." Rita said.

"Then don't do anything I don't like." Bree hissed.

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame. Eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl. Krum, whom Bree would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Rita Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence while Bree glared at her.

At last, they were free to go. Bree went and ate in the kitchens, then went to bed.

* * *

**Bree's wand was decided by a quiz.**

**If you want to see Bree's boots copy and paste "demonia gothika 101 boots" into google search and it comes right up.**

**Hey. Should Bree be an animagus?**


	30. Year 4:Might be a bit of an Overreaction

Life became even worse for Harry after Rita Skeeter had published her piece about the Triwizard Tournament. Even though Bree had forced her to use a group picture of all the champions, much of the article (continuing on pages two, six, and seven) had been all about Harry. There had been a paragraph about Bree, and Fleur, Krum, and Cedric hadn't been mentioned until the very last lines. Worst of all, Rita Skeeter had reported Harry saying an awful lot of things that he couldn't remember ever saying in his life, let alone in that broom cupboard.

I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now…

Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it…

I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me…

"Such trash." Bree thought. "Such disgusting drivel. How can people believe this?" Rita had obliviously disregarded Bree's threat once she had left Hogwarts. Or had thought that it only applied to Bree. There were no made up quotes attributed to Bree.

But Rita Skeeter had gone even further than transforming Harry's "er's" into long, sickly sentences: She had interviewed other people about him too.

Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school.

From the moment the article had appeared, Harry had had to endure people — Slytherins, mainly — quoting it at him as he passed and making sneering comments.

"Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?"

"Since when have you been one of the top students in the school, Potter? Or is this a school you and Longbottom have set up together?"

Bree hadn't liked the article, so she contacted a lawyer. Well actual she contacted Sirius and he contacted a lawyer. It would take a couple of days to put together a case, but in the meantime Bree had the Slytherins to deal with.

She got them to back off a bit by saying things like "Lately the only thing keeping me from becoming a serial killer is my dislike for manual labor." Which threw them off. She had determined that Draco was the ring leader so she had told him "Just because you're not paranoid doesn't mean I'm not out to get you." Then grinned at him. One day when he was particularly irritating she had snarled "I may or may not have put a bomb in your kidney while you were asleep. Do you really want to risk it?" The look on his face was priceless. At dinner she had said "If you're so jealous of Harry's scar, why don't you just get your own." Then offered to give him a scar while wielding a butter knife. That had gotten her detention.

* * *

568. Not allowed to tell the Slytherins that "Lately the only thing keeping me from becoming a serial killer is my dislike for manual labor."

574. Not allowed to tell Draco "Just because you're not paranoid doesn't mean I'm not out to get you."

534. Not allowed to tell Draco "I may or may not have put a bomb in your kidney while you were asleep. Do you really want to risk it?"

633. Not allowed to tell Draco "If you're so jealous of Harry's scar, why don't you just get your own."

- not allowed to offer to give Draco a scar.

* * *

Ten days after Rita's article was released, she was forced to print a retraction. Bree felt quite pleased with herself.

* * *

Unfortunately Bree didn't have much time for pranks in the days leading up to the first task. She was otherwise occupied. She spent a lot of time looking at the crack in the wall, that may have actually been a crack in the universe. But if it was a crack in the universe then Doctor Who was real. If Doctor Who was real then every monster the Doctor had ever faced was real as well.

The rest of Bree's time, that wasn't spent in class, was spent researching any and all spells that may useful in the first task with help from the Weasley twins. There were spells that caused explosions, spells that created water, spells that created fire, spells that created ice, spells for obstructing vision, spells that made shields, spells for healing, and quite a few spells that would be useful in future pranks.

Bree practiced these spells in a secluded spot by the lake as to not hurt anyone incase something went wrong. One day the twins were late. Bree never started without them, first, because if a spell backfired she'd need them to take her to the hospital wing, and second, because they helped her learn the spells.

When the twins finally showed up, they each grabbed one of her arms and carried her away, saying only that there was something that she really needed to see.

* * *

Dragons. Five fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting -

torrents of fire were shooting into the sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground, a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might, a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air, a smaller copper-colored with black ridge-markings and short horns on its head, and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others.

Bree, Fred, and George were crouched in the brush, watching them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs.

"Better not get any closer." said Fred.

"Charlie told us that they can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet." said George.

"The big one is a Hungarian Horntail."

"There's a Common Welsh Green over there."

"That blue-gray one is a Swedish Short-Snout."

"Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

"Smallest one is a Peruvian Vipertooth."

"It's got venomous fangs."

"And we have to fight these?" Bree asked.

"No. Just get past them."

"They're all nesting mothers"

"Nesting mothers?" Bree said in shock.

The twins nodded.

* * *

"Oh god. Oh god. Gonna die. Gonna die. Gonna die. Oh god."

Bree could run surprisingly fast for someone wearing heeled boots. (1)

"Gonna die. Gonna die. Gonna die." She was approaching the hall with the crack.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh god." She stopped in front of the crack.

"Shut up! I don't have time for you today!" She started running again.

"Gonna die. Gonna die. Gonna die."

She ran all the way to the Gryffindor common room where she was stopped by Hermione.

"What's wrong?"

"Out of the way they want to kill me!" Bree ran up the stairs to the dorm were she hid under the bed after kicking Muffin out.

* * *

With the twins.

"I take it you showed her the dragons." said Lee.

"We didn't think she'd react like that!" George protested.

Lee looked at him oddly. "Since when can anyone predict what Bree'll do next?"

"True." agreed Fred.

* * *

**1. She's still wearing the uniform that she came up with for her school and will continue to do so for the rest of her fourth year.**

**Short chapter, but I've been busy. Next one will be longer.**

**About the question I asked last chapter: Some people seem to like I intend to have Bree become an animagus right away. No. Just no. That's not realistic. I asked now because Bree needs to start looking into it now in order to master it later. Much, much, later.**


	31. Year 4: Giant Fireball of Doom!

No amount of coaxing from her roommates could get Bree to come out from under the bed. Eventually they decided that the mentally unhinged blond would come out when she was hungry and left her alone. Bree did come out after a few hours, not because she was hungry, but because Muffin kept hitting her in the face. ("This is my spot. You get out.")

Hermione tried to get Bree to tell her what was wrong. Bree just muttered something incoherent about aliens in suits and 1969, then went to bed.

* * *

Bree woke up early the next morning to find Muffin sitting on her chest and prodding her in the face. Seeing that her human was awake Muffin gave Bree a look that, roughly translated, meant "Give me food human slave."

Bree got up, fed the cat, and then couldn't get back to sleep.

It was to early to have breakfast, so Bree went to the kitchens were the house elves, rather enthusiastically, fed her.

After breakfast Bree researched the different kinds of dragons using "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" so that she could formulate a Plan B. Plan A was trying to forfeit.

The Chinese Fireball, also known as the Liondragon, is a dragon native to China. The Fireball is scarlet and smooth scaled with a fringe of golden spikes around its face. The Fireball's snout is slightly short ending with hooked beak on the top jaw. Its name is derived from the mushroom-shaped flame that is emitted through its nostrils when angered, along with the large mushroom shaped flame it shoots from his mouth. The Chinese Fireball breed of dragons generally yield females that are larger than males. The Chinese Fireballs are also very fast and clever, at least for a dragon.

"Joy."

The Common Welsh Green, or just Welsh Green, dragon is a native of Wales.

It nests in the higher mountains regions where a reservation has been set up for it. This dragon is a relatively subdued breed (with the rare exception of the Ilfracombe Incident).

"What the heck is the Ilfracombe Incident?" Bree muttered, flipping through pages.

The Ilfracombe Incident occurred in 1932, when a rogue Common Welsh Green dragon attacked a group of sunbathers at Ilfracombe, in Devon, England. The attack was thwarted by a vacationing wizarding family who also proceeded to cast the largest group of Memory Charms seen in the twentieth century preformed by the Toke family. Despite their mass charming, some escaped from their Memory Charms, including a certain "Dodgy Dirk" who maintains to this day, much to the obvious confusion of Muggles, that a "dirty great flying lizard" punctured his lilo.

"What on earth is a lilo?" That information, however, was not in the book. Bree went back to reading about the Common Welsh Green.

It prefers to prey mainly on sheep and other small mammals and to avoid human contact altogether. The Welsh Green's roar is rather distinctive and somewhat melodious and it issues its fire in narrow jets.

"Well that would make it easier to dodge."

The Swedish Short-Snout is a dragon native to Sweden. It lives in wild, uninhabited areas, mostly the northern mountains of Sweden. Its scales are silvery blue, and its powerful flame is also a brilliant blue color - and hot enough to reduce timber and bone to ashes in seconds. Its attractive skin is much sought after for the making of gloves and shields. Since it rarely comes into contact with humans, the Short-Snout has less deaths to its name than most dragons. However, the Short-Snout is nevertheless one of the most dangerous species due to its agile flying and extremely hot fire that it produces. The Short-Snout tends to be less able on the ground because of its lack of forward limbs.

"Great, so keep it on the ground… How do I do that?"

The Hungarian Horntail is a dragon native to Hungary and is considered to be the most dangerous dragon breed. It has black scales, a spiked tail, and bronze horns protruding from its head. It has yellow eyes with vertical pupils. Its roar is a yowling, screeching scream, and its flame can reach to about fifty feet. While having a very far reaching flame the Horntails breath can reach extremely high temperatures as and can turn stone red hot in seconds.

"Dear Lord, God in heaven, I know it's been awhile, sorry. You know I never ask for much, but please, please, don't let me get the Horntail. I don't want to die jest yet."

The Peruvian Vipertooth is a dragon native to eastern and north-eastern Peru. Its scales are smooth and copper-colored. It also has black ridge-markings and short horns on its head. Like the Norwegian Ridgeback, its fangs are venomous. It is the smallest known breed of dragon, about fifteen feet (five meters) long and able to conceal itself well from Muggles.

The Vipertooth feeds on goats and cows, but is notorious for its particular craving for humans. In the late 19th century, Vipertooth numbers once went on an alarming increase and became a serious threat to wizards and Muggles alike. The International Confederation of Wizards was forced to send an extermination squad in to reduce the Vipertooth population.

"I'm going to get eaten or fried." Bree muttered. She thought about spells that might help her against a dragon.

Aqua Eructo created a jet of clear water, and then controls it. Which is potentially useful against a dragon.

Glacius spell with great range, could freeze things to ice and could be melted by Incendio. Not so useful. Dragon fire burned hotter than Incendio.

Obscuro caused a blindfold to appear over the victim's eyes, obstructing their view of their surroundings. If the dragon couldn't see he then it couldn't fry her. And then inspiration struck. Mythbusters style inspiration.

Insane laughter filled the halls. Several of the more timid students wet and hid. Snape went on high alert, Smith had been absent from breakfast… The foreign students just looked confused and the more experienced Hogwarts students looked at them with pity. They had no idea what was to come. But perhaps it was better that way, ignorance is bliss after all.

* * *

Bree ordered a certain substance through owl order. A whole lot of a certain substance that was kept in a container that was spelled to be bigger on the inside and feather-light. She then tested the substance, along with a few spells, until she had it perfected. This would either be totally awesome, or would kill her while still looking totally awesome. Either way there would be an epic fireball and the blond pyromaniac was okay with that.

* * *

On the morning of the day of the first task, the atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure - though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.

At lunch Professor McGonagall was hurried over to the Gryffindor table. Lots of people were watching.

"Potter, Smith, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now… You have to get ready for your first task."

"Okay," said Harry, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

"You ready for this?" George whispered. Bree nodded and followed Harry.

Bree felt an uncharacteristic lump of terror growing in her stomach as they walked. Professor McGonagall didn't seem herself either. As she walked Bree and Harry down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hands on their shoulders.

"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head… We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand… The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you… Are you all right?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Yes, I'm fine."

"I'm fine too." Bree stated. In truth she felt like throwing up.

McGonagall was leading them toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible. A tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

"You're to go in here with the other champions," said Professor McGonagall, in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turns. Mr. Bagman is in there… he'll be telling you the - the procedure… Good luck."

"Thanks," said Harry, in a flat, distant voice. McGonagall left them at the entrance of the tent. Harry and Bree went inside.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a how wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, though it looked forced.

"Harry! Bree! Good-o!" said Bagman happily. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes again. "Well, now we're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" - he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them - "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too… ah, yes… your task is to collect the golden egg!"

"Can I forfeit?" Bree asked.

"No. The magical contract with the cup prevents that," Bagman answered.

"Can I stand there and do nothing until people get bored and send me away?" Bree tried.

"Well… yes. But you might get injured." Bagman said.

And in no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking. And then Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck And Bree knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that she had knew what was coming.

Bree was next. She pulled out a tiny Peruvian Vipertooth with a number five around it's neck.

"Poisonous and man-eating. Fun." Bree deadpanned.

Krum pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short - Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the only dragon left. The Hungarian Horntail, with the number four around it's neck. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?

Now… Harry… could I have a quick word? Outside?"

"Er… yes," said Harry blankly, and he got up and went out of the tent.

The whistle sounded and Cedric looked quite green as he exited the tent. Harry came in moments later. Seconds hater, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face-to face with the living counterpart of his model.

The crowd screamed, yelled, and gasped as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the ground. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric's steps, around and around the tent. And Bagman's commentary made everything much, much worse. "Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow"… "He's taking risks, this one!"… "Clever move - pity it didn't work!"

"What did Bagman want?" Bree whispered to Harry.

Harry frowned. "He wanted to give me advice." he answered. Bree looked confused for a moment, then her eyes lit up.

"He bet on you." she told Harry.

"What?"

"In the tournament. If you do well, he'll make money."

"But he's a judge."

"So?"

Harry didn't respond and silence resumed.

And then, after about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the golden egg.

"Very good indeed!" Bagman was shouting. "And now the marks from the judges!"

But he didn't shout out the marks. Bree supposed the judges were showing them to the crowd.

"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Fleur was trembling from head to foot. She heft the tent with her head held high and her hand clutching her wand.

The same process started again…"Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" they could hear Bagman shouting gleefully. "Oh… nearly! Careful now… good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Bree distracted herself by letting her model dragon scurry over her hands.

Ten minutes later, Harry heard the crowd erupt into applause once more… Fleur must have been successful too. A pause, while Fleur's marks were being shown… more clapping… then, for the third time, the whistle.

"And here comes Mr. Krum!" cried Bagman, and Krum slouched out, leaving Harry quite alone.

"Very daring!" Bagman was yelling, and Harry heard the Chinese Fireball emit a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew its collective breath. "That's some nerve he's showing - and - yes, he's got the egg!"

Applause shattered the wintry air like breaking glass. Krum had finished. It would be Harry's turn any moment. The whistle blew. Harry left the tent. Bree was left all alone.

She heard Bagman shouting that Harry had summoned his broom. She let out a slightly hysteric giggle that caused to model dragon to stare at her strangely.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Bree found that just allowing the model dragon scurry across her fingers was no longer enough of a distraction. She decided to name it.

The crowd gasped and screamed. Bagman shouted. Bree ruled out the names Frank and Beelzebub.

The crowd screamed again. Louder this time. Bagman shouted about Harry having been hit by the Horntail's tail. Bree squeezed her eyes shut, then remembered the dragons were all female. She named the model Barbara.

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Bree put the model into her pocket, stood up, and steeled herself for the whistle.

Harry's score was shown. Clapping. Then the whistle.

She walked out through the entrance of the tent, and past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down from stands. And there was the Vipertooth, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled. Slitted eyes stared at Bree. Copper scales glinted and sharp teeth gnashed. Bree spotted the golden egg among the clutch of real eggs. The Vipertooth was to small to cover the eggs completely with her body and moved protectively in front of them.

Bree pulled out the canister and used a levitation charm to position it high in the air.

"Bombarda!" she shouted. The spell it hit canister and it exploded, releasing a plume of white powder. Bree was about to follow up with Incendio, but the dragon beat her to it, spitting flame of its own. The powder ignited into a fireball, consuming the Vipertooth and a large portion of the field. The crowd gasped and shrieked.

After a moment the fireball subsided, leaving a blacked somewhat sticky residue behind. The dragon was distracted, trying to get the gunk out of it's eyes and off it's hide. Bree quickly ran forward grabbed the gold egg, then ran out of the enclosure, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"What was that?" Professor McGonagall asked after Bree had exited the enclosure and had stopped screaming. Bree looking back at the blackened field and saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to deal with the Vipertooth. She turned back to McGonagall.

"Coffee creamer. Highly flammable." she stated.

"And you just happened to have that with you?" McGonagall asked skeptically.

"Well, I saw this thing on Mythbusters with an air cannon and I thought that if I modified it I could"

"No." McGonagall interrupted.

"But I"

"No."

* * *

663. If it happened on Mythbusters, I can't do it at school.

* * *

Fred and George came rushing down from the stands.

"They're about to put up your score!"

Madame Maxime - raise her wand in the air. What hooked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large ten.

Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number ten into the air.

"Looking good!" Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the back.

Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a ten. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.

Ludo Bagman - eight.

The twins booed.

And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too - one.

She was tied with Cedric. Just behind Harry and Krum, who were also tied.

Bree had to go back to the tent because Bagman wanted to talk to the champions. Harry was already there. Fleur, Cedric, and Krum all came in together. One side of Cedric's face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably mending a burn. He grinned at Harry when he saw him.

"Good one, Harry."

"And you," said Harry, grinning back.

"Well done, all of you!" said Ludo Bagman, bouncing into the tent and looking as pleased as though he personally had just got past a dragon. "Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth - but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're all holding, you will see that they open… see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg - because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"

Bree went back to the castle.

* * *

There was a big party in the Gryffindor common room, as there always is whenever anything that's even minutely wroth celebrating happens. Gryffindors like to party.

Sirius and Remus were there. They had come to see the first task and had stuck around to celebrate. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt, or Bree's fireball, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.

"What did you use to make that fireball?" Sirius asked.

"Coffee creamer. I've got another jar left, if your interested." Bree said.

"He's not." Remus interjected just as Sirius opened his mouth.

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"Actually they just said that we couldn't get help from teachers." Bree stated, looking pointedly at Sirius and Remus. Sirius grinned.

"Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!" several people echoed.

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and pried it open.

It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room.

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

"What was that?" said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee… Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor.

"You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing… maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower."

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" said Fred.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -"

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.

"Just my little joke, Neville…"

Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"

"Yep," said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. "'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful… get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."

"How do you get in there?" Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice.

"Easy," Fred began, but was cut off when Bree clapped a hand over his mouth.

"She just wants to talk to the house elves!" she hissed.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" said George. "Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" said Fred warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.

"Oh - sorry, Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -"

"You did not." Bree muttered.

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing. "Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

Sirius bought about twenty of them.

* * *

Bree stumbled into bed at around one in the morning. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her dreams were not pleasant. She dreamed of an explosion, cracks in the universe, and the end of all creation.

* * *

**Coffee creamer. Because fireballs fix everything**.

**Review please!**


	32. Year 4: In Which There is a Closet

**In order to understand parts of this chapter you should have an understanding of the Doctor Who episodes "The Pandorica Opens" and "The Big Bang." The episode summaries can be found on wikipedia or you can look up "Pandorica" on the tardis wiki.**

**If you are already familiar with Doctor Who, don't bother with the above.**

* * *

Putting her nightmare behind her, Bree focused o the upcoming holiday. The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. The Durmstrang ship on the lake was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. The Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too. Hagrid was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the comer of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. This was unhelpful, as they were still tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them.

"I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. "Thought we'd jus' try an see if they fancied a kip… we'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes…"

There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill one another had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor, their powerful, scuttling legs, their fire-blasting ends, their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts look repulsive. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.

"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."

But the skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, "Don panic, now, don' panic!" while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead - had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid.

Bree was the only one to go back to the castle. She walked away from the mounting chaos as if there was nothing out of the ordinary going on behind her.

Divination was a little different then it had been. Harry and Ron had made up and were snickering through Trelawney's explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life.

Trelawney went on about death and Bree ignored her in favor of staring out the window.

* * *

One day, Bree visited the kitchens to find two new elves there. They were Dobby, who had previously belonged to the Malfoy's until Harry freed him, and Winky, who had been Mr. Crouch's elf up until the Quidditch world cup.

"Oi, Harry." Bree called, catching the boy's attention in the hall.

"What is it?" he responded.

"That crazy elf, Dobby, he's in the kitchens. Dumbledore hired him." Bree told Harry how to get into the kitchen so he could visit Dobby.

* * *

"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?"

Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class on Thursday, and Harry and Ron both jumped and looked up.

It was the end of the lesson; they had finished their work; the guinea fowl they had been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk (Neville's still had feathers); they had copied down their homework from the blackboard ("Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"}.

The bell was due to ring at any moment, and Harry and Ron, who had been having a sword fight with a couple of Fred and George's fake wands at the back of the class, looked up, Ron holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber haddock.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them as the head of Harry's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor - Ron's parrot's beak had severed it moments before - "I have something to say to you all."

"The Yule Ball is approaching -a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -"

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry, Professor McGonagall ignored them.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then -"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound.

"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter, Smith, - a word, if you please."

Assuming this had something to do with his headless rubber haddock,

Harry and Bree proceeded to the teacher's desk. Professor McGonagall waited until the rest of the class had gone, and then said, "The champions and their partners -"

"What partners?" Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny.

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."

"Dance partners?" Harry went red. "I don't dance," he said quickly.

"Oh yes, you do," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."

"Can I delegate the responsibility to someone that is not me?" Bree asked.

"No." McGonagall responded.

"What if I have plans for Christmas that involve not being here?" Bree tried.

"It's already been arranged with your parents."

"I'm not dancing." Harry said

"It is traditional." said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."

"But-I don't-"

"You heard me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way.

* * *

Harry had a lot of girls interested in going to the ball him. Though this appeared to be because he was famous and not because they had any actual interest in Harry, so he was still without a date because he wouldn't ask anyone and he rejected anyone who asked him.

Bree didn't have a date either, though for different reasons. You see, Bree tended to hang out with the twins, and the twins had noticed that boys seemed more interested in the blond since she became a Triwizard champion. They also noticed that Bree wasn't aware of the looks she was getting. They took it upon themselves to keep away anyone who even looked like they might be thinking asking Bree to the Yule Ball. Not that Bree noticed.. The blond just wasn't interested in finding someone to ask and unless someone asked her (which they wouldn't *coughtwinsfaultcough*) Bree was just going to kept going on, business as usual, which meant chaos.

* * *

"Let me out of here!" Draco shouted from behind a closet door in an empty classroom.

"You promise to stop bothering Harry?" Bree asked.

"…Yes." Malfoy answered after a moment.

Bree frowned. "I don't believe you. You're going to stay in there until you learn how to play nice."

"You're insane!" Draco shouted.

"Well you're a transvestite!" Bree accused.

"What!" Draco exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I thought we were randomly accusing each other of things that are completely untrue. Are we not playing that game?" Bree said in false confusion.

"But you are insane!" Draco protested.

"No. Einstein defined insanity doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, and I never do the same thing twice! I always seem to have the same result though… detention." Bree stated thoughtfully.

"What am I supposed to do for food?" Malfoy asked.

"I arranged for the house elves to send you meals. I have to get to class now, bye Draco." Bree waved to the door and left the empty classroom.

* * *

By lunchtime most of school had noticed that Draco hadn't shown up to any of his classes.

"Where do you think Malfoy is?" Lee Jordan asked through a bite of sandwich.

"He's in the closet." Bree answered immediately.

Hermione scoffed. "Honestly, can't you grow up?"

"But he _is_." Bree insisted.

* * *

At potions class that day Snape was rather annoyed.

"Has anyone seen Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.

"He's in the closet." Bree answered.

Snape glared. "This is no time for one of your jokes, Smith." he growled.

"But he _is_ in the closet. I locked him in it." Bree stated. Snape looked as if he wanted to strangle the blond.

* * *

452. Not allowed to tell people that Draco is "In the closet."

-even if it's true because I trapped him in one.

* * *

Bree's nightmares were getting worse. She now had them every night and they all seemed to center around the cracks in the universe. Bree now went out of her way to avoid the hall with the crack. In her latest dream she had seen the stars disappearing from existence. Not even a memory of them remained. Only the earth and the sun had remained, only the sun wasn't the sun it was the TARDIS exploding over and over again in a time loop, heating the earth in place of the sun. But it couldn't last and the earth began to be destroyed as well and then… and then…

* * *

Two days later Bree felt that something was very, very wrong with the world. Nothing was different. Everything was the same. And yet it felt so very, very off, and Bree felt the urge to flee from… something. She didn't understand until the sun had set. There wasn't a single star in the sky.

"What the heck?" Bree muttered as she stared a the starless sky.

"This has something to do with the crack…" Bree didn't know it yet but more cracks were appearing in the school. Bree's head started to hurt. She winced, rubbed the back of her head, turned around and froze. There was a crack in the floor. It was wide open and emitting white light.

"Oh Sh-" was all Bree could get out before the light consumed her and she was wiped from existence.

And then she woke up with a gasp. She patted herself down to make sure she was all there, then sighed in relief. She got out of bed and walked to the window. It was nighttime, and all the stars were exactly where they were supposed to be.

"Was it all a dream?" Bree thought as she went back to bed.

* * *

The next day Bree went to the hallway with the crack. The crack was gone, as if it had never been there. Bree spent a few minutes staring at the empty section off wall. She was about to leave when she heard a noise. She turned toward it and saw a police box materializing in the hall.

* * *

**Go read Augustiflickan's fic "Our Story." my oc Bree is mentioned in it.**

**Review please!**


	33. Year 4: Forwards, Backwards

Alright, so you're probably a bit confused by the last chapter, here's a clarification. You might remember that in chapter 29 Bree said "The universe is cracked. The Pandorica will open. Silence will fall" when she was looking at the crack in the wall. So let's analyze the three parts of that statement, shall we?

The cracks could wipe individuals from time itself and remove events from history, and having never happened there was no memory of them. The cracks in the universe were caused by the TARDIS exploding cracking various points in time and space, some of which the Eleventh Doctor had been involved in. This resulted in the destruction of the universe, except for the earth which was at "the eye of the storm." but the TARDIS was able to preserve Earth by putting itself in a time loop at the moment of its death. The heat from the perpetual explosion heated the alternate Earth in place of the sun.

The Pandorica turned out to be a prison, built by the Alliance (basically all of the Doctor's enemies) for the Doctor to stop him from destroying all the universes. Their conclusions held that the Doctor would be responsible for the destruction of existence itself, since he was only one who could pilot the TARDIS, and thus used the lure of the Pandorica in order to entrap him. There were many layers of security in the Pandorica including deadlocks, time stops and matter lines. It even had a restoration field to stop the Doctor from dying, which the Alliance believed to be a form of escape.

The Pandorica was also used by the Doctor to restore the universe. Since all of the traps inside it provided the perfect barrier against the destruction of the universe, it retained several billion atoms of the original universe within it even after the destruction of the rest of creation. Operating on the same principle as cloning a body from a single cell, these atoms provided a literal 'blueprint' for the universe when the Doctor threw it into the exploding TARDIS which cracked all of time and space. The blueprint from the Pandorica combined with the explosion energy from the TARDIS restored every point in time and the rest of the universe. Doing so causes the cracks in time to close

And the Silence was just part of the quote and doesn't matter for this part of the story.

Now, how does this relate to Bree? Well, Bree thought that Doctor Who was a TV show and had "watched" the whole series. Then the whispering crack in the wall showed up and Bree began to, absentmindedly, quote Doctor Who episodes about cracks in the universe. Bree began to have dreams about the end of the universe via the TARDIS exploding. By the time Bree even began to consider that Doctor Who might be real, it was already to late and most of the universe, sans the earth, had been destroyed. Bree was the only one, besides the Doctor and is companions, to remember that there was supposed to be more than the earth, even though she really shouldn't have but that will be explained later in the upcoming chapter. And then Bree got erased from time by the crack she walked into and was brought back by the Pandorica, along with the rest of the universe. Yes, I killed Bree, then brought her back, just to mess with her head and make her think she was going insane until the TARDIS showed up.

Admittedly I should have put this at the end of the last chapter, but I was being lazy, so let's see what happens next!

* * *

Bree stared at the police box that now occupied the once empty hall. Suddenly the door burst open and a man wearing a bow tie( The Doctor, Bree mentally labeled him) exited the box (TARDIS) while exclaiming "Welcome to Ancient Egypt!"

A red haired woman (Amy Pond) was the next to exit the TARDIS. This doesn't look like Egypt." she said. Another man (Rory) was next to leave the TARDIS.

"Well, it's stone. We could be inside of a pyramid." he suggested as he looked around.

"What would a girl be doing inside of a pyramid?" Amy said pointing at Bree.

At this the Doctor turned and finally noticed Bree.

"Bree!" the Doctor said excitedly. "It's been awhile hasn't it? Or has it? Time travel can be a little confusing sometimes and…. you have no idea who I am do you?" he asked when he noticed Bree's uncomprehending look.

"You're the Doctor." Bree said slowly. "And I'm losing my mind."

"Yes I am, and no you're not. Have we met before today?" the Doctor asked.

Bree shook her head "No."

The Doctor looked slightly panicked. "How old are you?"

Bree gave him a funny look. "Fourteen." she answered. The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and started doing something with it in the vicinity of Bree's head. He got a very serious look on his face when he was done.

"You need to come with me right now." he stated.

"Doctor, who is this?" Amy asked as the Doctor steered Bree toward the TARDIS.

"Bree's a friend of mine, well, she will be. She just hasn't met me yet." The Doctor explained.

"But you've met her?" Rory questioned.

"Yes. In the future, her future, my past." the Doctor explained.

"That doesn't make any sense!" Amy exclaimed.

"Sure it does. Time travel." said Bree as she stepped in the TARDIS. "Hm."

"That's it?" Rory asked in disbelief.

Bree blinked. "What's it?"

"It's a phone box that's bigger on the inside, shouldn't you be a little more surprised?" Amy asked.

"He wasn't." Bree responded, pointing at Rory.

"Well that was because I had researched…" Rory paused and stared at Bree. "How did you know that?"

"An excellent question, Rory." the Doctor stated. "Unfortunately I can't tell you the answer just yet." He knocked Bree out and gently lowered her to the floor. Then he began piloting the TARDIS.

"Bree's been infected by a psychic worm. It probably infected her when she was a small child and the neuronal pathways in her brain were still forming. It hacked into her brain arranged the pathways so that her mind could accept and store information beyond what the human mind is normally capable of. Usually that would result in a genius but the worm created a block so that Bree would only learn what was expected of an average human, that way it could regulate what's in her head. Then the worm uses a psychic field to pull visions from the past, present, and future and forced her remember them so that it could feed off of the energy it took to store the new memories." he explained.

"That doesn't explain why you had the knock her out." Amy stated as Rory (who's a nurse) attended to Bree.

"Because the worm has a defense system. In the world of modern medicine abnormalities can be easily detected, so what happens when the worm is detected? The worm extends it's psychic field to modify the memories of the doctors and nurses and anyone else who might know, then it modifies its host's memories." the Doctor said. The TARDIS landed.

"So what are you going to do with her?" Rory asked.

"Take her to the hospital of course! Better to have the worm removed now than when the information overload starts to kill her." the Doctor said. "Rory, grab her legs."

* * *

Bree woke up in a hospital bed. The first thing she saw was a white ceiling, the next thing she saw was the Doctor.

"You knocked me out." she accused.

"Well…" the Doctor began to explain.

"You knocked me out." Bree repeated more forcefully.

"To save your life." the Doctor protested.

"From what?" Bree asked incredulously. And so the Doctor told her about the psychic worm.

* * *

"So I'm in a hospital, in the future, on a planet that is earthlike but not earth?" Bree asked after everything regarding the worm was explained.

"Yep." the Doctor responded.

"It's not the hospital where the cat people nuns bred a new race of humans that they infected with all known diseases so that they could find cures for them. Is it?" Bree questioned warily.

"….Yeah, but I took care of that about a century ago." the Doctor answered. Bree frowned, then addressed her next concern.

"You've met be before. In the future. In my future." she said.

"Yes." the Doctor answered.

"And I told you about the worm, and how old I was when it was removed, otherwise you wouldn't have asked me my age."

"Yep."

"So now, at some point in my future, I'm going to meet a past version of you and I'm going to have to tell him about this otherwise present you wouldn't have been able to save me from the worm?"

"Well I didn't save you so much as the surgeon did, but yeah."

"Time loop?"

"Time loop."

"Okay then."

Amy and Rory had been watching the exchange silently up until now, thinking that Bree would be freaked out and would need the Doctor to explain things to her, finally interjected.

"How can you accept this all so easily?" Rory asked.

"I didn't." Bree said dryly.

"You did. You haven't had a panic attack or gone into denial or anything." Amy protested.

"I am an in denial, just wait 'till I start to accept it. That's when things will get interesting." Bree stated. Awkward silence.

"So how long to I have to stay here?" Bree asked.

"A week." the Doctor answered.

* * *

Bree spent the week in the hospital bed with instructions not to move unnecessarily. It was really boring, despite the visits she got from Amy, Rory, and the Doctor, when they weren't off exploring the planet.

Bree finally came to terms with everything that was happening, after a panic attack that irritated the doctors and nurses and made it so that Bree wasn't allowed to have visitors for two days.

Two days alone, save for doctors and nurses coming to check on her, gave Bree time to think. If Doctor Who was real, then couldn't other shows that she had "watched" be real too? When Bree was allowed visitors again, she asked the Doctor. He confirmed that it was a very real possibility, then dulled the memories that she wasn't supposed to have enough that she would be less aware of future events and wouldn't end up changing the timeline.

* * *

Bree was finally being released from the hospital. One of the nurses had given Bree a medication that the blond would have to take for two weeks to ensure that her recovery continued smoothly. "Side affects made include: tingling, numbness, and the sudden urge to set a refrigerator on fire and toss it off a cliff."

"Alright time to get you back." the Doctor said as soon as they were all in the TARDIS. "We'll go back to a few moments after we left. No one will notice you were gone."

"Can't you drop me off on the day after Christmas?" Bree asked.

"Why would you want to miss Christmas?" Rory questioned.

"I don't. I just want to miss the Yule Ball, which happens to be on Christmas day." Bree pouted.

"A ball? Sounds fun." Amy said.

"Says you. You aren't required to open the ball." Bree stated.

"What do you mean required?" Amy asked.

"Bree's one of the champions of the Tri-Wizard tournament. It's tradition that the champion's ad their dance partners open the ball." the Doctor explained.

"What's a Tri-Wizard tournament?" Rory inquired.

"It's a contest, held between the three largest magical schools of Europe. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic." Bree explained.

"Wait, did you say "magic"?" Amy asked.

Bree nodded.

"Magic is real?" Rory questioned.

"Yes." Bree said at the same moment the Doctor said "No." Bree stared at him.

"It's not magic. It's just a sub-group of humans that are naturally in tune with the planets natural energy." he explained.

"Right. Magic. Anyway, a champion is selected from each school via the Goblet of Fire, which should give the tournament a grand total of three competitors. But not this time. This time there were five. Someone messed with the Goblet so that more schools would be accepted. I had put my name in under the "Smith Academy of Mayhem" just to prove that I could get past the defenses that were in place to keep the younger students from entering, and someone put Harry Potter in for The American Institute of Magic… first task was to steal a golden egg from a dragon. I got it done faster than most of the others." Bree explained.

"That's sounds fun. To watch anyway. We should go see it." Amy stated.

"Yeah… it would be neat to see it from another perspective." Bree said.

* * *

The TARDIS appeared in the forbidden forest a little way away from the stands that had been set up for the First task of the Tri-wizard tournament. Four time travelers emerged wearing heavy cloaks. Bree's had a hood so that people wouldn't recognize her as one of the champions.

They got seats and waited. The dragon handlers put the Swedish Short Snout on one side of the enclosure with it's eggs and the golden egg that Cedric was supposed to retrieve.

Bagman explained the task to the crowd.

The whistle sounded and Cedric came out. The dragon wasn't happy to see him and began spitting blue flames at him, forcing him to duck out of the way.

"Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow." Said Bagman.

Cedric moved closer to the dragon, which was still spitting flames at him.

"He's taking risks, this one!"

Cedric transfigured a rock into a dog to distract the dragon, and it did work for a bit, Cedric managed to get his hands on the golden egg. The dragon noticed this and whipped around.

"Clever move - pity it didn't work!"

Blue flames burned the side of Cedric's face, but Cedric managed to get away with the egg. The crowd erupted into cheers. Cedric's scores were put up, Bree didn't pay the any mind because she already knew the Cedric would be tied for second.

The Short Snout was removed and the Common Welsh Green was put in. The whistle, then Fleur came out.

Fleur was having more trouble dodging flames from the Welsh Green, then Cedric did from the Short Snout.

"Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" Bagman shouted gleefully. "Oh… nearly! Careful now… good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

After a few nerve-wracking minutes, Fleur managed to enchant the dragon the dragon to sleep. She appeared successful, but the dragon snored, sending out a jet of flame that set her skirt on fire before she was able to get the egg. More cheers from the crowd. Scores were shown, Fleur hadn't done as well as Cedric, but then, Bree already knew that.

The Welsh Green was taken out, and the Chinese Fireball was put in. The whistle sounded and Krum walked into the enclosure.

Krum was, so far, the most bold in his approach. He cast the Conjunctivitis Curse as he dodged a mushroom shaped fireball.

"Very daring!" Bagman yelled.

The Chinese Fireball emitted a horrible, roaring shriek, as its eyes swelled shut. As it stumbled around in pain, Krum ran forward and grabbed the golden egg.

"That's some nerve he's showing - and - yes, he's got the egg!"

The Fireball accidentally stomped on some of its own eggs. Points were deducted from his score, but he was still in first place, mostly due to Karkaroff giving him a ten.

Fireball out. Hungarian Horntail in.

"That thing looks worse than the others." Rory stated.

"It is. It's one of the most vicious breeds of dragon. But at least it's not venomous." Bree responded.

Amy laughed. "Oh come on. There's no such thing as a poisonous dragon." Her smile vanished when she saw the look on Bree's face.

"Is there?"

"The Norwegian Ridgeback and the Peruvian Vipertooth. And the Vipertooth is know to be man-eating." Bree answered. The whistle sounded. Harry came out.

He raised his wand.

"Accio Firebolt!" he shouted.

After a few moments his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure, and stopping dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making noise. Bagman was shouting.

Harry swung his leg over the broom and kicked off from the ground. He rose high into the air and stayed there for a moment, and then, he dived. The Horntail's head followed him. He pulled out of the dive just in time, a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as the crowd shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck.

Harry plummeted just as the Horntail opened its mouth, but this time he was less lucky - he missed the flames, but the tail came whipping up to meet him instead, and as he swerved to the left, one of the long spikes grazed his shoulder, ripping his robes. The crowd screamed.

He began to fly, first this way, then the other, not near enough to make her breathe fire to stave him off, but still posing a sufficient threat to ensure she kept her eyes on him. Her head swayed this way and that, watching him out of those vertical pupils, her fangs bared… Harry's face off against the dragon was far more interesting then any of the other champions had been.

He flew higher. The Horntail's head rose with him, her neck now stretched to its fullest extent. Harry rose a few more feet, and she let out a roar of exasperation. He was like a fly to her, a fly she was longing to swat; her tail thrashed again, but he was too high to reach now. She shot fire into the air, which he dodged. Her jaws opened wide.

And then she reared, spreading her great, black, leathery wings at last, as wide as those of a small airplane , and Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what he had done, or where he had disappeared to, he was speeding toward the ground as fast as he could go, toward the eggs now unprotected by her clawed front legs, he had taken his hands off his Firebolt he had seized the golden egg. And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his uninjured arm.

"Look at that!" Bagman was yelling. "Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Harry's score was shown, he was tied with Krum.

With some difficulty the Horntail was taken out, then the Peruvian Vipertooth.

"That's a Peruvian Vipertooth?" Amy questioned.

"Yep." Bree answered.

"It's smaller than the others." Rory commented.

"Yeah. But it has more to it's bite to make up for that." Bree commented.

The whistle sounded, then Bree's past self came out. Bree looked herself over. "Is my chest really that big?" she asked with a frown. The Doctor and Rory both made it a point not to look at her. Amy patted her on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it."

In the enclosure, the Vipertooth was to small to cover the eggs completely with her body and moved protectively in front of them. Past Bree pulled out the canister and used a levitation charm to position it high in the air.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor asked. Bree shushed him.

"Bombarda!" she shouted. The spell it hit canister and it exploded, releasing a plume of white powder.

"Trying to blind it?" the Doctor guessed.

The powder erupted into a fireball, consuming the Vipertooth and a large portion of the field. The crowd gasped and shrieked. Bree was grinning like a maniac and cheering for her past self.

After a moment the fireball subsided, leaving a blacked somewhat sticky residue behind. The dragon was distracted, trying to get the gunk out of it's eyes and off it's hide. Past Bree quickly ran forward grabbed the gold egg, then ran out of the enclosure, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"What was that?" Amy asked.

"Coffee Creamer." Bree answered.

Bree didn't need to look at the score to know how she had done. She knew she was tied with Cedric.

* * *

The Time Travelers were back inside that TARDIS.

"I think you should have won." Amy stated.

Bree shrugged. "Karkaroff is biased. Besides, there's still two more tasks… And a ball. But I'm not quite sure how you could win a ball…" she said.

"Two more? Can we go see them?" Amy asked the Doctor. Bree looked hopeful.

"Yes we can." the Doctor said to Amy. "But not you." he said to Bree. "You have to go back and live the events normally."

Bree pouted.

* * *

The TARDIS appeared in the hallway that once had the crack, a few moments after Bree had originally left, in the same spot. Bree said goodbye to Amy, Rory, and the Doctor.

"Now, about that ball…" Bree heard Amy say as the TARDIS door shut. Bree watched the TARDIS dematerialize, then was left trying to remember what class she was supposed to be going to.

* * *

The psychic worm is something I made up. As you may know from reading some of my stories with Bree in them, Bree Seventh year is going to be spent fleeing from/ messing with Death Eaters in kind of a global crossover road trip. Some of the rules are based on stuff from other fandoms, but since Bree won't have any actual contact with other fandoms until Seventh year I had to think of a way for her to know about them before hand, which is where the worm came in. Although I suppose I could have bits of other fandoms show up sooner… hmm.

So, love it? Hate it? Think I'm insane? Tell me in a review.

"I have the sudden urge to set a refrigerator on fire and toss it off a cliff."


	34. Year 4: Dance Dance

Bree made it to class on time, and soon everything was back to normal. No cracks and no nightmares. But the Doctor had warned her that the alterations the worm had made to the neuronal pathways were irreversible, and since the worm had been removed and could no longer renew the block that was in place, Bree would have to be careful not to let anything go poking around in her mind because it might jar the block and cause her mind to overload. But other than _that_ everything was as it should have been.

The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Harry didn't believe half of them - for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly who or what the Weird Sisters were Bree didn't know, listened to a wizard's wireless, but she deduced from the wild excitement of those who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) that they were a very famous musical group.

Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday, and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions - as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him off. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as boring as someone describing paint drying.

Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too, and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. Staring nastily around at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

"Evil, he is," Ron said bitterly that night in the Gryffindor common room. "Springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying."

"Mmm… you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?" said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack - a much more interesting pastime than with Muggle cards, because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.

"It's Christmas, Hermione," said Harry lazily; he was rereading Flying with the Cannons for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire. Hermione looked severely over at him too.

"I'd have thought you'd be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!"

"Like what?" Harry said.

"That egg!" Hermione hissed.

"Come on, Hermione, I've got till February the twenty-fourth," Harry said.

"All it does is screech." Bree, who had been dozing on a couch with her cat, muttered sleepily.

"It's a clue that might take weeks to work it out!" said Hermione. "You're both going to look like idiots if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!"

"Leave him alone, Hermione, he's earned a bit of a break," said Ron, and he placed the last two cards on top of the castle and the whole lot blew up, singeing his eyebrows.

"Nice look Ron… go well with your dress robes, that will."

"There's nothing that will make his dress robes look worse."

It was Fred and George. They sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as Ron felt how much damage had been done.

"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" George asked.

"No, he's off delivering a letter," said Ron. "Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball." said Fred sarcastically.

"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat." said George.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," said Fred, waving his wand threateningly.

"So… you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

"Nope," said Ron.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron.

"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oy! Angelina!"

Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

"There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake."

"Good for you then. No one has asked me." Bree said, standing up and walking over to the table. She glared at the twins.

"Finally figured out why." she said. The twins both looked very uncomfortable.

"We were just worried about you." Fred defended.

"Most of those guys were only interested in you because you're a champion. And the rest were well…" George trailed off, pointedly not looking and Bree's chest, an act that was made difficult by the way Bree was leaning over the table. Not that Bree noticed, actually Bree ever paid mind to her new… assets, was when her favorite shirt no longer fit, and again when she went back in time and watched herself face the Vipertooth. Bree frowned, partly because she didn't understand why George hadn't finished and partly because she was upset with the twins.

"Well McGonagall told me that I need a dance partner, so congratulations George, you're going to open the ball with me." the blond stated.

And with that Bree walked up to her dorm.

"… What just happened?" George asked after a moment.

"I think Bree just asked you to the ball." Fred stated.

* * *

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls. Bree stole one of the owls and kept in her room. She named it Apollo.

The suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful" sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

One day Bree found Ron sitting ashen-faced in a distant corner of the common room. Ginny was sitting with him, talking to him in what seemed to be a low, soothing voice.

"What's up, Ron?" said Harry, joining them.

Ron looked up at Harry, a sort of blind horror in his face.

"Why did I do it?" he said wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?" said Harry.

"He - er - just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny.

"You what?' said Harry.

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped again. "What was I playing at? There were people, all around, I've gone mad, everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall. She was standing there talking to Diggory, and it sort of came over me, and I asked her!"

Ron moaned and put his face in his hands. He kept talking, though the words were barely distinguishable.

"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then, I dunno, I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"Well she's part veela." Bree commented.

"Her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it, but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang." Harry added.

Ron looked up.

"I asked her to go with me just now," Harry said dully, "and she told me."

Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling.

"This is mad," said Ron. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone - well, except Neville. Hey - guess who he asked? Hermione!"

"What?" said Harry, completely distracted by this startling news.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff - but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville… I mean, who would?"

"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh -"

Just then Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole.

"Why weren't you two at dinner?" she said, coming over to join them.

"Because they just got rejected!" Bree said happily.

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione loftily. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.

"Hermione, Neville's right - you are a girl…"

"Oh my god." Bree muttered.

"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well - you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

"Oh come on," he said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has…"

"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said.

"That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"

And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories again.

"She's lying," said Ron flatly, watching her go.

"She's not," said Ginny quietly.

"Who is it then?" said Ron sharply.

"I'm not telling you, it's her business," said Ginny.

"Right," said Ron, who looked extremely put out, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and I'll just -"

"I can't," said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. "I'm going with - with Neville.

He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought… well… I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year." She looked extremely miserable. "I think I'll go and have dinner," she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Ron goggled at Harry.

"What's got into them?" he demanded

"Ron, you're a prat. And since you're a prat, it is now my duty to might you're life miserable, or at least somewhat irritating." said Bree, before she left the common room.

* * *

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays Harry was in no mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying himself as fully as possible along with everyone else.

Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center.

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savoury puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about.

"It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food." Bree heard her saying grumpily as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening.

"I will not fit into my dress robes!"

"Then eat less!" Bree yelled at her.

Fleur glared and left.

* * *

Bree woke up on Christmas morning with her cat hitting her in the face. She fed Muffin then opened her presents. She got books from her parents, three rolls of duct tape from the twins, superglue, rubber fish, dye and paint is various colors, and a note that said "I'm sure you'll think of something" from Sirius. Remus was much more practical and sent her a list of spells that she might find helpful in the Tri-Wizard tournament.

After breakfast, Bree spent most of the morning lounging in front of the fire in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then she returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers.

Bree went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to watch Harry, Bree, and the Weasleys' snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o'clock said she was going back upstairs to get ready for the ball.

"What, you need three hours?" said Ron, looking at her incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. "Who're you going with?" he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle.

At six Bree went in, after knocking off Harry's glasses with a well aimed snowball, in order to get ready.

Bree's robes were, at first glance, blue, with splashes of other colors. On closers inspection however, it became clear that the colors were moving and were actually fish swimming around a reef.

Bree met George in the common room.

"Those are interesting robes." he commented as a butterfly fish swam across Bree's stomach.

Bree grinned. "Thanks."

* * *

The entrance hall was packed with students. All milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another.

Harry and Ron had finally gotten dates with Parvati and Padma Patil.

A group of Slytherins came up the steps from their dungeon common room. Malfoy was in front; he was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar. Pansy Parkinson in very frilly robes of pale pink was clutching Malfoy's arm. Crabbe and Goyle were both wearing green; they resembled moss-colored boulders, and neither of them had managed to find a partner

"You look like you're wearing an aquarium." Malfoy stated when he saw Bree.

"At least I don't look like I have a giant wad of cotton candy attached to my arm." Bree responded.

The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by a Hermione in blue robes. But she didn't look like Hermione at all.

She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow. Or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back.

Over their heads Bree saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights. Meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Santa and his reindeer.

Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim other hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.

Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest the doors; Davies looked so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he could hardly take his eyes off her.

Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting. The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Bree caught sight of Ron and Padma as he neared the top table. Ron was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Padma was looking sulky.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an expression remarkably like Ron's as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr. Crouch was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley. On Percy's left Bree saw three familiar people. The Doctor, Rory, and Amy. Bree sat down next to Amy. She noticed that the Doctor was deep in conversation with Percy. It sounded very boring and technical, but the Doctor seemed very excited.

"What are you doing here?" Bree asked Amy.

"I wanted to see a magical ball. The Doctor used the psychic paper to get in. They think that the Doctor is an ambassador and that Rory and I are his aides." Amy explained.

There was no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly and looked around - there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then said very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"

And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. Bree looked around the table. Krum was talking very enthusiastically to Hermione.

"Veil, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," he was telling Hermione. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these - though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains -"

"Now, now, Viktor!" said Karkaroff with a laugh that didn't reach his cold eyes, "don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy… one would almost think you didn't want visitors."

"Well, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, displaying his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"

"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," said Dumbledore amicably. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turn on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."

Bree leaned over to whisper to Amy. "See that twinkling in his eyes? It's just a little man turning the lights on and off inside of his empty head."

* * *

641. Not allowed to insist that the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes is really just a little man turning the lights on and off inside of his empty head.

* * *

Meanwhile Fleur Delacour was criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies.

"Zis is nothing," she said dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course… zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat." She slapped her hand onto the table impatiently.

Roger Davies was watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, and he kept missing his mouth with his fork. Harry had the impression that Davies was too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she was saying.

"Absolutely right," he said quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like that. Yeah."

Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables; he was back in his horrible hairy brown suit and gazing up at the top table. He gave a small wave and Madame Maxime returned it, her opals glittering in the candlelight.

Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he kept calling her "Hermy-own."

"Her-my-oh-nee," she said slowly and clearly.

"Herm-own-ninny."

"Close enough," she said.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments.

The champions and their partners stood as the Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune. Bree walked onto the brightly lit dance floor. She saw the Doctor wave happily at her. Bree blushed slightly when George put his hand on her waist but all and all it wasn't a bad as she expected. She didn't mess up any of the steps and very soon many of them too had come onto the dance floor, so that the champions were no longer the center of attention. Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby. Ginny was wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet, and Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime.

He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Mad-Eye Moody was doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who was nervously avoiding his wooden leg.

The Weird Sisters stopped playing, applause filled the hall once more. Bree saw Harry and Parvati leave the dance floor just as the Weird Sisters struck up a new song, which was much faster. Fred and Angelina began dancing so exuberantly that people around them were backing away in fear of injury.

Amy was getting some looks as she danced with Rory. She was wearing a black dress that showed off all of her curves. The Doctor was showing off distancing skills… or complete lack thereof. But he did appear to be having a lot of fun. Percy looked on disapprovingly.

After dancing for awhile Bree needed a break so she grabbed a drink and to sit with Ron and Harry, who had been abandoned by their dates and joined by Percy. Fred and George had gone to confront Bagman.

"What do they think they're doing, annoying senior Ministry members?" Percy hissed, watching Fred and George suspiciously. "No respect…"

Ludo Bagman shook off Fred and George fairly quickly, however, and, spotting Harry, waved and came over to their table.

"I hope my brothers weren't bothering you, Mr. Bagman?" said Percy at once.

"What? Oh not at all, not at all!" said Bagman. "No, they were just telling me a bit more about those fake wands of theirs. Wondering if I could advise them on the marketing. I've promised to put them in touch with a couple of contacts of mine at Zonko's Joke Shop…"

"Really? I thought for sure they would have asked about the money you owe them." Bree stated.

"M-Money?" Bagman stuttered. "I afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Those in debt should not make bets, Mr. Bagman. It just incurs more debt. If you're not careful you'll end up owing more than just money." Bree stated with a predatory grin. Then she got a thoughtful look on her face.

"I wonder what kind of trouble you'd be in if word about this got out… It'd probably cause problems for you and the Ministry as a whole. Ya'll haven't been that popular since the incident at the world cup, and a scandal would just make things worse…" Bree smirked. Bagman sputtered and fled.

* * *

173. I am not allowed to blackmail ministry officials.

* * *

Amy and Rory came over and sat down. Before Bree could speak Percy immediately questioned them.

"What's it like being ambassador's aides?"

Harry and Ron took the opportunity to flee before the conversation turned mind numbingly boring.

"Um it's very… aide-like. Lot's of aiding involved." Rory said.

"You are so bad at this." Bree commented. She caught sight of the Doctor dancing.

"Though not as bad as he is at that." she stated. Rory and Amy both turned to look.

"Yeah. You should have seen him at our wedding." Amy stated.

"I did." Bree said, rubbing the back of her neck.

"What? When did you…" Amy began, then she noticed the look Bree was giving her. "Oh. Right. I forgot." She turned to Rory. "Lets go join him." The couple left, leaving Bree alone with Percy.

"You've met them before?" he asked.

"Yeah, once." Bree responded.

"Once? You seem rather close for having met them once." Percy said.

"What do you mean?" Bree asked.

"You were at their wedding." Percy stated.

"No I wasn't." Bree stated bitterly.

"But you said-" Percy was cut off by Bree.

"It's complicated. So very, very, complicated." Bree stated.

"You could explain it." Percy pressed.

"I could try but-" Bree was cut off by George.

"Bree. I've come to rescue you from my brother. Let's get back to dancing." He exclaimed grabbing Bree and leading her out onto the dance floor.

* * *

When the Weird Sisters finished playing at midnight, everyone gave them a last, loud round of applause and started to wend their way into the entrance hall. Many people were expressing the wish that the ball could have gone on longer.

"That was fun." Amy said to Bree. "Bet your glad you came."

"Yeah. You going to the next task?" Bree asked.

"Of course." Amy stated.

"You're just going to hop in the TARDIS and appear there in a few minutes, while I'm stuck going the slow way, aren't you?" Bree muttered.

"No. We've got to change. Maybe take a nap and have some breakfast first." the Doctor said.

"Great. And I'm stuck dealing with a screaming egg." Bree said bitterly.

"Did you try giving it a bath?" the Doctor asked. Bree gave him an amused look.

"I thought you didn't want to change the timeline?" she said.

"I'm just helping a friend. A nice bath could help you figure things out." The Doctor said.

"Right. See you in a little while." Bree said.

"And we'll see you in February." said the Doctor.

* * *

**So yeah, at the start of the chapter I just wanted to point out the Bree's body is no longer that of a child, but her mindset hasn't really changed from when she was younger and that causes problems.**


	35. Year 4: What's so great about unicorns?

**This chapter is shorter then others, but I have finally obtained a life. But not the rights to Harry Potter.**

* * *

Everybody got up late on Boxing Day. The Gryffindor common room was much quieter than it had been lately, many yawns punctuating the lazy conversations.

Bree, acting on the advice she had gotten from the Doctor, took the egg to the kitchens. She asked the house elves for a big tub of water and she set the egg in it. She opened the egg. Instead of screeching it made a gurgling sound. Bree leaned over the tub to hear it better. She slipped and fell in. While she was under she heard singing. But couldn't make out the words before the house elves had pulled her out. After assuring the elves she was fine, Bree stuck her head in the tub.

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you re searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour- the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back"

Bree popped up excitedly. It was obvious to her that whatever she had to go after lived in underwater, considering that she had had to stick her head in a tub. The lake was the only large body of water in the area.

"Nebby! Is there anything in the lake that can sing?" she asked.

"There are merpeople-" Nebby was cut off by Bree picking her up and hugging her. Bree then ran out of the kitchens excitedly. She came back a moment later to retrieve the egg.

* * *

Bree was going to kill Rita Skeeter. No. Death would me to good for the woman. She was going to make Rita's life HELL. Yes, she would destroy Rita just as the reporter had destroyed the lives of so many others. Instead of articles that only held the populaces attention for a few weeks, Bree would drag it out until she begged for mercy, and no mercy would come. Maybe a sick and twisted mind game were she feigned mercy for a moment, but not the actual thing.

Now you might be wondering what has Bree so upset. Well it started with her seeing the headline **"DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE" **in the Daily Prophet which led to her full body tackling the unfortunate owner of the particular copy so that she could steal it. The Hufflepuff in question never knew who had taken his paper and the hall was rather empty at the time so no one was able to tell him, but if there had been someone there they probably would have said something like "Holy shitake mushrooms! You just got attacked by a Tri-Wizard champion!" And Bree would have gotten detention. But as it was Bree left the dazed Hufflepuff in the hall and suffered no punishment for her actions.

Finding a secluded spot, Bree began to read the article.

**Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.**

**Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.**

**An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening." 'I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything."**

"Well Draco needs a lesson as well I see." Bree muttered.

**Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manti-cores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions.**

"**I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not - as he has always pretended - a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror.**

**While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature.**

**In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power - thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend – but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants.**

Naturally Rita would be forced to print a retraction once Bree contacted Sirius and Sirius contacted his team of lawyers. Bree would handle the Draco problem but she would have to wait for the tournament and the school year to end before she would have time for Rita.

* * *

Snow was still thick upon the grounds, and the greenhouse windows were covered in condensation so thick that they couldn't see out of them in Herbology. Nobody was looking forward to Care of Magical Creatures much in this weather, though as Ron said, the skrewts would probably warm them up nicely, either by chasing them, or blasting off so forcefully that Hagrid's cabin would catch fire.

When they arrived at Hagrid 's cabin, however, they found an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin standing before his front door**.**

"Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago," she barked at them as they struggled toward her through the snow.

"Who're you?" said Ron, staring at her. "Wheres Hagrid?"

"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," she said briskly. "I am your temporary Care of

Magical Creatures teacher."

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry repeated loudly.

"He is indisposed," said Professor Grubbly-Plank shortly.

"Stupid article." Bree muttered.

Soft and unpleasant laughter reached Harrys ears. He turned; Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins were joining the class. All of them looked gleeful, and none of them looked surprised to see Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"This way, please," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were shivering.

"What's wrong with Hagrid?" Harry said, hurrying to catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Never you mind," she said as though she thought he was being nosy.

"I do mind, though," said Harry hotly. "What's up with him?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank acted as though she couldn't hear him. She led them past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered.

Many of the girls "ooooohed!" at the sight of the unicorn. "Oh it's so beautiful!" whispered Lavender Brown. "How did she get it? They're supposed to be really hard to catch!"

"Boys keep back!" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the chest. "They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it…"

She and the girls, except Bree, walked slowly forward toward the unicorn, leaving the boys and Bree standing near the paddock fence, watching.

"You're not going with them?" Dean asked her.

"How observant Dean. No. I'm not going with them. Unicorns. It's a thoroughbred with a horn on it's head and magical properties. Whoop- dee- doo. Those winged draft horses of Maxine's that would have been neat, but if I wanted to see a stock horse I can just go to my aunts. Same behavior and they aren't sexist." Bree explained.

"Er- what's a draft horse and what's a stock horse?" Dean asked.

Bree sighed.

"I'll make this simple for you. Draft horses sized for pulling, stock horses sized for riding." Bree explained.

When Professor Grubbly-Plank was finally out of earshot. Harry turned to Ron.

"What d'you reckons wrong with him? You don't think a skrewt -?"

"Oh he hasn't been attacked, Potter, if that's what you're thinking," said Malfoy softly.

"No, he's just too ashamed to show his big, ugly face."

"What d'you mean?" said Harry sharply.

Malfoy put his hand inside the pocket of his robes and pulled out a folded page of newsprint.

"There you go," he said. "Hate to break it to you. Potter…"

He smirked as Harry snatched the page, unfolded it, and read it, with Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville looking over his shoulder. It was an article topped with a picture of Hagrid looking extremely shifty.

Bree already knew what it said. The boys looked increasingly horrified as they read.

Harry finished reading and looked up at Ron, whose mouth was hanging open.

"How did she find out?" he whispered.

But that wasn't what was bothering Harry.

"What d'you mean, 'we all hate Hagrid'?"

Harry spat at Malfoy. "What's this rubbish about him" - he pointed at Crabbe - "getting a bad bite off a flobberworm? They haven't even got teeth!"

Crabbe was sniggering, apparently very pleased with himself.

"Well, I think this should put an end to the oaf's teaching career," said Malfoy, his eyes glinting. "Half-giant… and there was me thinking he'd just swallowed a bottle of Skele-Gro when he was young… None of the mummies and daddies are going to like this at all… They'll be worried he'll eat their kids, ha, ha…"

And suddenly Bree thought of a way to solve the Malfoy problem. After all the weight of the debt was still there, it could be used as a threat, or simply acted on to give Bree a more permanent solution… Bree grinned predatorily.

"Draco. I've decided how we can settle your debt to me." Bree stated.

Draco turned to look at her. "Wh-whu-what?" he stammered.

"I am unhappy. You have made me unhappy. Skeeter has made me unhappy. If this works out I can make both you and Skeeter unhappy. That will make me happy." She pause for dramatic effect.

"Draco. I want your fortune."

* * *

**A/N1: Someone better talk Bree down or Draco will end up in the poorhouse.**

**A/N2: Unicorns are nice and all, but after hippogriffs it's like "really?"**


	36. Year 4: Might be a sociopath

Bree was currently sitting is the Headmaster's office next to Draco. After Bree's revelation during Care of Magical Creatures, both she and Draco had been whisked away to Dumbledore's office in the hopes that he could convince Bree to be reasonable. That plan having failed, Dumbledore was making a few floo calls.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, there was a "Bree's going to take all of Malfoy's money and leave him broke" party going on because everyone in Gryffindor pretty much hates Malfoy and if there's ever a zombie apocalypse any infected Gryffindors will retain enough of that hate to eat Draco first. There were a few people that weren't interested in partying. This was because they had thought about what might actually happen if Bree had access to the Malfoy family fortune. We call these people Hermione and Neville.

"Come on. It's a party, you should celebrate." Ron said to the duo that was trying to stay out of the festivities.

"Ron," began Hermione, "have you thought about what would happen if Bree had that kind of money?"

"I have. It's terrifying." Neville commented.

"Think about all the chaos Bree manages to cause without funds and imagine what might happen if Bree had the Malfoy fortune at her disposal." Hermione had caught everyone's attention with this statement. The common room was silent as they thought about it.

"Oh my god! We're all going to die!" Seamus exclaimed.

The party became an "It's the end of the world so we'll party like there's no tomorrow because there probably won't be" party.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore was back with Draco's parents, Sirius, Remus, and, for some reason, the Minister of Magic. Sirius was on the side of taking all of Malfoy's money. Narcissa was glaring at him. Remus was trying to get Sirius to realize why taking all of Malfoy's money was a bad idea, but he had trouble coming up with a god reason not to. Lucious and Fudge were trying to talk Bree out of taking all of the Malfoy's money. Fudge's argument seemed to revolve around trying to get Bree to sympathize with the Malfoy's, since they would of course by left knutless, homeless, and without a means to provide for themselves. Bree's response was "I don't care. They can keep their house, and get a job you lazy ass."

The Minister pleaded with her to look into the kindness of her heart. This caused Bree to start laughing hysterically. When she finally calmed down, she asked "What on earth would make you think I'm kind?"

"You saved Draco from a rampaging hippogriff." the Minister answered.

Bree smirked. "That was kindness for the hippogriff, not for Draco. If Draco were to drop dead, I would go to his funeral so that I could dance the Macarena on his grave. He's a evil little S.O.B that delights in the pain and humiliation of others. That folks, is what we call a sociopath." she said.

"You do that too!" Draco accused.

"Only with my enemies. I'm very nice to my friends, and you Draco… do you even have friends? Crabbe and Goyle don't count." Bree stated. Draco fumed. Sirius snickered. Lucious finally seemed to realize something.

"Did you just call my wife a bitch?" he asked angrily.

Bree actually had been, but without missing a beat she replied. "No actually, I was talking about you." Leaning toward Narcissa she stage whispered "You could find someone better… and less gay."

Before either of the elder Malfoys could respond, Professor McGonagall came in. Bree's eyes widened in horror when she saw who was behind her.

"I've brought Bree's mother." McGonagall stated. Bree looked as if she was about to break into horrified sobs.

"If I could have a moment alone with my daughter so that I may speak with her?" Mrs. Smith said. It was less of a request and more of an order. The other occupants of the room obliged.

"Help me." Bree mouthed at Sirius and Remus right before the door shut. Yelling ensued.

* * *

Ten minutes later the door opened. Mrs. Smith seemed calm, but Bree was trembling near tears. Five minutes later Bree's mother had negotiated a trust fund for her daughter. Bree literally felt the magic of the debt lessen, but it was still intact. On the bright side, Draco was instructed to never lie to the press again. Or else.

* * *

Bree grumpily walked into the Gryffindor common room. The Gryffindor students, not sensing Bree's mood, cheered. And Bree killed them all… No, not really, but she wanted to, but she was still traumatized from her mother's rant. She glared at them all.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked.

"I didn't get any money." Bree stated.

"You changed your mind?" George questioned.

"No… Professor McGonagall showed up with my Mom." Bree twitched slightly when she mentioned her mother. "She yelled at me."

"Professor McGonagall?" Colin Creevy asked.

"No. My Mom." Bree twitched again.

"So you didn't get anything?" Fred asked.

"I got a trust fund that I can't touch till I'm seventeen." Bree explained.

Neville looked relieved. "So you won't be taking over the word then?" he inquired.

"No. I haven't even thought about before… although now that you mention it…" Bree trailed off thinking.

"Stop giving her ideas!" Hermione hissed.

* * *

January was mind numbingly boring. Bree didn't really have much to do as she had the egg figured out and had found a charm that would allow her to breath under water. It was pretty easy thanks to the list of spells Remus had given her. She ordered a wet suit because that lake would be cold in February and there was no way she was going to swim in it in a normal suit.

So Bree was very, very bored. And then she remembered something she had told Ron in December.

_Flashback_

_"Ron, you're a prat. And since you're a prat, it is now my duty to might you're life miserable, or at least somewhat irritating." said Bree, before she left the common room._

_End flashback_

Bree grinned. It was time to carry out that promise/threat.

* * *

Bree went back to the closet that she had previously trapped Draco in. She cut a hole in the door and installed a one way mirror so that people could see in, but not out. Then she charmed the mirror unbreakable. Preparations complete, Bree walked around the castle until she found Ron, alone.

She used stupefy to knock him out, then she put him in the closet. Then she went looking for Draco and knocked him out and put him the closet. Once the two were awake they, naturally, began fighting. Bree found it entertaining. She sold tickets and soon people form all the houses, and Drumstrang, were making bets about who would win. After three hours Hermione caught wind of it and everyone present, excluding the Drumstrang students were dealt with by Kakarroff, were given detention. Bree was fine with this as she had made a profit of two hundred and seventy galleons.

* * *

493. Not allowed to trap Ron in a closet with Draco in order to see who will come out alive.

- not allowed to sell tickets to the above.

* * *

There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January. Hermione was very surprised that Harry was going to go.

"I just thought you'd want to take advantage of the common room being quiet," she said.

"Really get to work on that egg."

"Oh I - I reckon I've got a pretty good idea what it's about now," Harry said.

"Have you really?" said Hermione, looking impressed. "Well done!"

Bree snickered. Harry's body language screamed "I'm lying."

"Got yourself a pair of trunks then?" she asked when Hermione left.

"What?" Harry said confusedly.

"I figured the egg out a while ago. Had a little help though." Bree stated. "Here's some advice: Take a bath." Bree left the room laughing.

* * *

On Saturday Bree, Fred, George, and Lee went down to Hogsmade. Ludo Bagman was in the Three Broomsticks.

"Hello, Mr. Bagman," said Fred brightly. "Can we buy you a drink?"

"Er… no," said Bagman, with a last disappointed glance at Harry, "no, thank you, boys…"

Fred and George looked quite as disappointed as Bagman, who was surveying Harry as though he had let him down badly.

"Well, I must dash," he said. "Nice seeing you all. Good luck, Harry."

He hurried out of the pub. A group of goblins all slid off their chairs and exited after him.

"He owes a lot huh?" Bree asked one of them as it went by. The only reply Bree received was a sharp nod.

"Shame he doesn't owe money to my cousin. I could work with that." Bree mused as she sat down at a table.

"Which cousin?" Fred and George chorused. Bree paused for a moment, then shrugged.

"Any cousin really. I have a lot of them on both sides. Most of them are older than me though. When I was little family reunions usually consisted of me passed around and fawned over. It was always a little odd for me 'cause… well, both my parents are kind of tall right?" Bree asked.

"Yeah." Fred agreed.

"Well, it runs in both sides. The woman are a little above average, but the men tend to push six feet, especially on my Dad's side, and none of them really have "normal" jobs…" Bree trailed off.

"They don't do anything illegal, do they?" Lee asked.

"I don't know. And if I did I wouldn't tell you. But I have some relatives in the military, a few work for government agencies, and… Rita Skeeter just came in." Bree said.

Rita Skeeter was wearing banana-yellow robes today; her long nails were painted shocking pink, and she was accompanied by her paunchy photographer. She bought drinks, and she and the photographer made their way through the crowds to a table nearby. Harry, Ron, and Hermione glaring at her as she approached. She was talking fast and looking very satisfied about something.

"… didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in town anyway? Showing them the sights… what nonsense… he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman… ' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story to fit it -"

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" said Harry loudly.

A few people looked around. Rita Skeeter's eyes widened behind her jeweled spectacles as she saw who had spoken.

"Harry!" she said, beaming. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join-?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," said Harry furiously. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"

Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrows.

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if he's half-giant?" Harry shouted. "There's nothing wrong with him!"

The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing.

Rita Skeeters smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and said, "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know. Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"

Hermione stood up very abruptly, her butterbeer clutched in her hand as though it were a grenade.

"You horrible woman," she said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, wont they? Even Ludo Bagman -"

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," said Rita Skeeter coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl… not that it needs it -" she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair.

"Let's go," said Hermione, "c'mon. Harry - Ron…"

They left; many people were staring at them as they went. Harry glanced back as they reached the door. Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill was out; it was zooming backward and forward over a piece of parchment on the table. Then Rita caught sight of Bree.

"Bree! Would you mind answering a few questions? I'm sure our readers would like to hear about how you tried to seize the Malfoy fortune.

"You want me to talk to you? No. I've seen articles in Cracked Magazine that are more factual then the trash you write." Bree stated before leaving.

* * *

Rita was forced to print a retraction and Hagrid finally returned to teaching. Whether Hagrid was trying to make up for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, or because there were now only two skrewts left, or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could, Bree wasn't sure, but Hagrid had been continuing her lessons on unicorns ever since he'd returned to work. It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters, though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing.

Today he had managed to capture two unicorn foals. Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold. Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them. Bree like them better then the adults. They were cute.

"Easier ter spot than the adults," Hagrid told the class. "They turn silver when they're abou' two years old, an' they grow horns at aroun four. Don' go pure white till they're full grown, 'round about seven. They're a bit more trustin when they're babies… don mind boys so much… C'mon, move in a bit, yeh can pat 'em if yeh want… give 'em a few o' these sugar lumps…"

* * *

Harry had apparently figured out the egg. He, Ron, and Hermione were spending a lot of time studying. They hadn't found anything and were still pouring over spell books the night before the second task while Bree watched in amusement. Harry finally realized something.

"You told me that you figured it out weeks ago." he said.

"Finally remembered that did ya?" Bree said, amused. She smirked.

"So you have a have to stay under water for an hour?" Ron asked.

"Yep." Bree answered. There was a long pause.

"Are you going to tell us?" Hermione inquired.

"Well it's to late to order Scuba gear, so if you want to know the magical equivalent," Bree stuck her hand out, palm up. "Ten galleons."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized.

"You heard me." Bree responded. "I'm not going to help you, unless you pay me."

"That's extortion!" Hermione shrieked.

"No. That's business." Bree replied.

"Money means more to you than Harry?" Hermione asked. Bree rolled her eyes.

"Worst thing that'll happen is he won't be able to dive deep and he'll keep having to surface for air." she stated.

"Well, we'll just find it ourselves." Hermione said defiantly. Bree shrugged. "I'll be here if you change your mind. Either way, I'll gain.

* * *

About and hour later Hermione was getting frustrated.

"Oh this is no use," Hermione said, snapping shut Weird Wizarding Dilemmas. "Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," answered Fred Weasley's voice. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up. Fred and George had just emerged from behind some bookshelves.

"What're you doing here?" Ron asked.

"Looking for you," Fred answered. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione. She wanted George too."

"Why?" said Hermione, looking surprised.

"Dunno… she was looking a bit grim, though. I'msupposed to take you down to her office." Fred stated.

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry.

"We'll meet up with you later, alright?" Hermione said.

They left. Bree went to bed early, so she didn't notice that Ron and Hermione never came back.

* * *

**As mentioned earlier, Bree has a really big family. This will be important during Seventh year, which as I mentioned somewhere before will involve crossovers and a trip around the world and Bree will be meeting up with some of her family, mostly in America and England, and I had the idea that some of her relatives might be characters that we know from other fandoms, but I would like some ideas on what you (the readers) would consider realistic. There will of course be ocs that she's related to, but I'd like some ideas for there jobs. Thanks!**


	37. Year 4: Swiming in February Really?

The lake looked cold and Bree was wishing that she had gone with a dry suit instead of a wet suit. At least she was better off then her competition. Krum was wearing swimming trunks, which would offer little protection from the cold, Fleur and Cedric were wearing their robes, which would cause drag, and Harry was… where was Harry anyway? Oh there he was, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleur's robes. Ha.

"Where have you been?" said a bossy, disapproving voice. "The task's about to start!"

Percy Weasley was sitting at the judges' table - Mr. Crouch had failed to turn up again.

Bree rolled her eyes and looked at the Doctor. He was pretending to be an ambassador again and Dumbledore had conjured up chairs for him and his "aides." She looked at the crowd and wondered if Fred and Lee had found George yet.

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman, who was looking intensely relieved to see Harry.

"Let him catch his breath!"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him… It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up.

Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath

Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet.

He returned to the judges' table. pointed his wand at his throat as he had done at the World Cup, said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause. Bree walked into the water, not paying attention to the other champions as she just wanted to get it over with. She shivered as the water soaked into her wetsuit and touched her skin. An idea popped into her head and she cast a warming charm on herself. Better. She was waist deep in the water so she cast the bubble-head charm and went under. She didn't swim. No, even Olympic swimmers were slow compared to marine animals, so Bree had decided to move like a marine animal. More specifically; a squid.

When a squid wants to move fast it uses a jet of water to propel itself. Aguamenti was a spell wizards used to create a jet of water. Bree had originally practiced the spell in order to prepare for the dragons, well she did until she got the coffee creamer idea. Now Bree was using the spell to propel her self forward like a squid. A squid with pyromaniac-like tendencies and a penchant for destruction. But still, no one else had ever come up with the idea, so there.

So, she was off. It was quiet under the and she could only see ten feet around herself, so that as she sped through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the incoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. She swam down, not to deep though, she didn't want to risk what might lurk in the weeds. She was pretty sure she saw things moving in there.

After about half an hour, Bree heard mer-song.

"_An hour long you_'_ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took…_

… _your time_'_s half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot…"_

"Creepy." Bree muttered, swimming toward the mer-song.

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there in the dark windows, Bree saw faces.

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Bree as she swam past. One or two of them emerged from their caves to watch her better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

Bree sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous. There were gardens of weed around some of them, and she even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Five people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Ron, Hermione, Cho Chang, George, and a girl who looked no older than eight were all in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

Harry was hacking at the rope that secured Ron with a sharp rock. Harry had somehow managed to get fins and gills. As she moved toward the hostages Bree saw a seven-foot-tall merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark fangs. She wondered were he has gotten the shark fangs, considering that he lived in a lake. She asked him.

"There's a passage that connects to the sea. I traded with our cousins from the ocean." he answered.

"Oh. It looks nice." Bree commented.

The merman nodded. "Shouldn't you be…?" he gestured toward the hostages.

"Right. Bye." she waved and went over to George. Harry had just freed Ron and was about to start hacking at the ropes that help Hermione.

At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.

"You take your own hostage," one of them said to him. "Leave the others…"

Bree watched bemusedly as Harry tried to argue with the mermen. All that came out when he spoke were bubbles, but the mermen appeared to be able to understand him anyway, or maybe they could lip-read…

Bree turned her attention toward the ropes holding George as Cedric swam over. She cut the ropes with diffindo, grabbed George by the arm, and left, Cedric following not long after.

Cedric and Bree surfaced at roughly the same time. George and Cho had woken up as soon as their heads were above water. Dumbledore stood beaming from the bank as the four swam nearer. Ludo Bagman was looking a bit worried. Percy, who looked very white and somehow much younger than usual, came splashing out to meet them.

Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacour, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

Percy seized George and was dragging him back to the bank. Even if he was kind of a jerk, at least he cared about his family. That was something.

The Doctor helped Bree onto the bank. An hour of being near-weightless underwater made gravity feel a lot more powerful.

Madam Pomfrey grabbed Bree and wrapped her in a blanket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down her throat. Then she repeated the process with the others. Krum and Hermione came up a few minutes later and got the same treatment. There was no sign of Harry. Harry wasn't coming up. What had happened? He had been there first to arrive in the mer-village. Everyone was watching the water, waiting, but Bree wasn't the kind of person who waited. She shrugged off the blanket and went back in before anyone could stop her.

She found Harry struggling through the water. He was dragging Ron by the collar and had Fleur's sister under one arm. Merpeople were rising with him, swirling around him with ease, watching him struggle through the water. Harry's gills and fins disappeared, so it was less struggling and more drowning.

Bree grabbed Harry and used a jet of water to propel him, the little girl, and the sack of dead weight to the surface.

Harry was desperately gulping in air. All around them, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of the water with him, but they were smiling at him.

The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet. Ron and the little girl were awake. The girl looked scared and confused, but Ron merely expelled a great spout of water, blinked in the bright light, turned to Harry, and said, "Wet, this, isn't it?" Then he spotted Fleur's sister. "What did you bring her for?"

"Fleur didn't turn up, I couldn't leave her," Harry panted.

"Harry, you prat," said Ron, "you didn't take that song thing seriously, did you? Dumbledore wouldn't have let any of us drown!"

"The song said -"

"It was only to make sure you got back inside the time limit!" said Ron. "I hope you didn't waste time down there acting the hero!"

"Should have left you at the bottom of the lake. Betcha be singing a different tune then." Bree said.

"Where's George?" Ron asked.

"On shore." Bree answered.

"So why are you here?" Ron responded.

"To keep Harry from drowning." Bree snapped back, resisting the urge to dunk Ron's head under water.

"C'mon," Harry said trying to diffuse the situation., "help me with her, I don't think she can swim very well."

They pulled Fleur's sister through the water, back toward the bank where the judges stood watching, twenty merpeople accompanying them like a guard of honor, singing their horrible screechy songs.

Ludo Bagman stood beaming along with Dumbledore, and Percy was back in "rescue sibling" mode. It was kind of sweet, really.

Madame Maxime was still trying to restrain Fleur.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?"

"She's fine!" Harry tried to tell her, but he was so exhausted he could hardly talk, let alone shout.

Percy grabbed Ron and pulled to him to the shore. ("Gerroff, Percy, I'm all right!"); Dumbledore and Bagman were pulling Harry upright. Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister. The Doctor was helping Bree up, again.

"It was ze grindylows… zey attacked me… oh Gabrielle, I thought… I thought…"

"Come here, you," said Madam Pomfrey. She seized Harry and pulled him over to Hermione and the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well -" said Harry. He noticed Karkaroff watching him. He was the only judge who had not left the table; the only judge not showing signs of pleasure and relief that Harry, Ron, and Fleur's sister had got back safely. "Yeah, that's right," said Harry, raising his voice slightly so that Karkaroff could hear him.

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," said Krum. Harry had the impression that Krum was drawing her attention back onto himself; perhaps to remind her that he had just rescued her from the lake, but Hermione brushed away the beetle impatiently and said, "You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry… Did it take you ages to find us?"

"He was the first one there." Bree stated.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy's clutches; she led him over to Harry and the others, gave him a blanket and some Pepperup Potion, then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn't seem to care, nor would she allow Madam Pomfrey to clean them.

"Look after Gabrielle," she told her, and then she turned to Harry. "You saved 'er," she said breathlessly. "Even though she was not your 'ostage."

"Yeah," said Harry, who was now heartily wishing he'd left all three girls tied to the statue.

Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek then said to Ron and Bree. "And you two-you 'elped"

"Yeah," said Ron, looking extremely hopeful, "yeah, a bit -"

Fleur swooped down on him too and kissed him. Hermione looked simply furious. Fleur turned and hugged Bree. Bree stiffened slightly.

Just then, Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause from the stands.

"I deserved zero," said Fleur throatily, shaking her head.

"Cedric Diggory who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was one of the first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour."

Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd. Cho gave Cedric a glowing look.

"We therefore award him forty-seven points."

"Bree Smith used the Bubble-Head Charm and returned at the same time as Cedric, however, when it appeared that her follow champion was in distress she returned to the water to aid him. The judges feel that she has show great moral fiber and therefore we award her fifty points." The Doctor grinned and Amy and Rory cheered.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

Ron and Hermione both gave Harry half-exasperated, half-commiserating looks.

"Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gave another Karkaroff a nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However… Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

"There you go, Harry!" Ron shouted over the noise. "You weren't being thick after all - you were showing moral fiber!"

Fleur was clapping very hard too, but Krum didn't look happy at all. He attempted to engage Hermione in conversation again, but she was too busy cheering Harry to listen.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," continued Bagman. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

Madam Pomfrey began herding the champions and hostages back to the castle to get into dry clothes.

* * *

Gryffindor was having a party. Again. Bree managed to slip away and was currently in the TARDIS.

"Congratulations!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Yeah you did great. It was really boring to watch though. Just an hour of staring at a lake." Amy said.

"Yeah well, I had to be in the lake for and hour. My hands got all pruny." Bree replied.

"Well I hope the next one's better than this one." Amy stated.

"Me too. Let's go do something fun." Bree suggested.

"Like what?" Rory asked.

"Does New New Orleans have Mardi Gras?" Bree asked.

"Of course." the Doctor answered.

Bree grinned. "Well then-allons-y!" she exclaimed.

* * *

**As you probably know I asked you readers to suggest characters from other fandoms that Bree might be related to. I also asked for job suggestions for oc relatives.**

**TKDgirl101 suggested Donna Noble as a relative.**

**For jobs Auctor suggested machinist in a submarine, spy just like Michael Weston from "burn notice", jail guardian, comedian, convenience store night clerk, cop, and black ops.**

**Sci-fi fan 82 suggested taxidermist and neurosurgeon/mad scientist. Taxidermy always makes me think of this one episode of criminal minds… *shudder***

**ccsakura21 suggest a crossover with Young Justice, which I was already considering. Obviously I need to start wearing a foil hat.**

**More suggestions are welcome, especially suggestions for relatives that could realistically be related to Bree. I'm not just going to have her somehow be related to characters like Ichigo Kurosaki or Superman. I might crossover with those fandoms though.**


	38. AN: Deaths

**So a couple reviewers don't like the idea of any more crossovers in this story. Well they're aren't going to be in this story. They're going to be in the **_**sequel**_**. That's right sequel. And I already have a teaser for the sequel up. It's called "Tips for Fleeing Death Eaters and Staying Alive." Because Bree isn't going to stay a school where Snape is headmaster. She's not even going to stay in England so there won't be much from the seventh book from the sequel. This is a good thing, because you know what happened in the seventh book? EVERYBODY DIED. Even Harry died, but he came back. He was the only one to do so. **

**You know, I'm not even sure why I'm getting protests now. I've mentioned that seventh year is going to be a crossover several times in authors notes in this story and in "88 rules for a peaceful Hogwarts experience." You should have said something those times. Unless you didn't read the A/N. Also, the point of doing a multi-cross is so that hopefully **_**everyone **_**will see something they're familiar with. If it makes you feel better I'll put the sequel in the x-overs and Harry Potter section.**

**And now, as punishment to those who don't read the A/Ns, and to those who leave THE CAPSLOCK ON WHEN THEY REVIEW SO IT'S SCREAMING AT ME, I will now kill Bree off. Multiple times. And they'll be crossovers.**

* * *

The hospital in New New York hadn't been able to remove the psychic worm. The Doctor had managed to put it into a dormant state. But Bree had ran when Death Eaters took over the ministry, and all the panic and stress and fear from running had woken up the worm. The worm started to force information into Bree's head at a more rapid pace than before. True, the information helped keep Bree, and by extension the worm, alive. But it was slowly killing her, and so far Bree had been unable to contact the Doctor so he could put it back to sleep.

Bree was leaning against a tree in the woods. Her head was throbbing. She could feel the worm wriggling under her skin. She was dieing, and now the worm was going to flee her body a save itself. Bree screamed as skin on the back of her neck tore, muscle, veins, and arteries were damaged, and blood dribbled down her back while the worm made it's frantic escape. The worm looked like a cross between a tapeworm and a centipede. As soon as it was out, Bree grabbed it, stunned it, and burned it into ash. Now all she could do was wait for death. She wondered what would kill her first, the blood loss or the information overload. In the long run it didn't really matter, she would die alone either way.

She heard the distinct sound off the TARDIS materializing nearby. How could someone with a time machine always be too late? The Doctor ran over to her. He cradled her dieing body in his arms. The last sound Bree ever heard was "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

**Actually the above scene was actually supposed to happen at the end of the story, although there was some internal debate about which character would find Bree, what fandom they'd be from, and whether they'd find Bree before or after her death. And then I decided not to pull a Rowling.**

* * *

Bree Smith somehow ended up being the only non-demon deal witch in existence. There wasn't a single magical community left. Fenrir Grayback, while still technically a wizard, though he'd rip you're throat out if you suggested it, was the last werewolf in existence. There were very few muggles left for him to turn, those that hadn't been killed by Voldemort's forces were wiped out by the apocalypse. Anyone left now knew enough about the supernatural to defend themselves against a werewolf.

Over time, Bree and Grayback had developed a somewhat grudging respect for each other. Grayback had a high opinion of the fact that Bree had become the most bloodthirsty and vicious warriors on the side of "light." She would have made a good Death Eater if she wasn't a mud-blood. Or a good werewolf if she didn't whip out a silver dagger every time she saw a one. Bree admired Grayback's shear will to survive and the fact that he could toss a demon through a wall, even when not transformed.

Even though there was really no reason for them to fight anymore, both their causes having been wiped out, they kept trying to kill each other anyway because of habit and the fact the apocalypse was on, so it's not like they could settle down and rebuild their lives. Their fights to the death kept getting interrupted by the apocalypse (they kept calling a truce and helped each survive whatever was thrown their way so they could get back to killing each other) or by the Winchester brothers who were determined to keep their relative alive, whether she liked it or not.

Sick of all the interruptions, Bree and Grayback teamed up and conjured a barrier to kept all everything out. Except air. Air was important.

So having made preparations for their battle to the death, Bree and Grayback faced each other in the harsh desert landscape that was once Iowa.

"So this is it, huh? You and me, the last of our kind, finally having the battle we've been waiting for and this time no demon, angel, vengeful ghost, undead army, or Winchester is going to get in our way." Bree said with a grin.

Grayback responded with his own grin. "Looks like it. Nice knowing you, brat."

And then they fought, throwing every they could each other until they both lost their wands. Then Bree pulled out a silver dagger and stabbed Grayback in the chest. This gave Grayback the opportunity to sever Bree's jugular with his abnormally sharp teeth. Dean and Sam got there right as Grayback bit Bree in the neck. They couldn't get to Bree until the barrier fell and by then she was already dead.

* * *

The headline in the Daily Planet read "Teenage Girl Run Down By Batmobile."

* * *

**Thus you have witnessed the power of the author. Tremble before my might. Read the A/Ns and don't Caps lock your reviews. Or else.**


	39. Year 4: Family Ties

Mardi Gras in New New Orleans was a lot like Mardi Gras in New Orleans, except more future-y. The parade floats were highly elaborate, several stories tall, and actually floated. Colorful aliens were wearing even more colorful costumes. It was a party better than anything that had ever been thrown in the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

Bree exited the TARDIS, laughing and wearing a Mardi Gras mask. A member of feathery humanoid species had gotten a hold of her and had twined colorful feathers and beads into her hair.

"See you at the next task!" Bree exclaimed. Waving as the TARDIS dematerialized.

* * *

Bree had apparently been gone fore several hours and the party was winding down.

"Where have you been? You missed a great party." Fred said.

"I went to a better one. It was better. There were feathers, and beads, and a feathery bird person, and there was alcohol, and it was a better party. And there were feathers." Bree rambled.

"Are you drunk?" George asked.

"No. I only had two. Amy she was, she was smashed." Bree lost her balance and ended up sitting on the floor. "How did I get down here?"

"Yeah she's drunk." Fred stated.

"Wish I'd been to that party." George said.

* * *

Bree woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. She sat up and promptly ran to the bathroom to empty her stomach. She grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen out of her trunk, swallowed a couple of pills and spent the rest of the day in bed.

* * *

Everybody was very keen to hear details of what had happened down in the lake, which meant that Ron was getting to share Harry's limelight for once.

Ron's version of events changed subtly with every retelling. At first, he gave what seemed to be the truth; it tallied with Hermione's story, anyway - Dumbledore had put all the hostages into a bewitched sleep in Professor McGonagall's office, first assuring them that they would be quite safe, and would awake when they were back above the water. One week later, however, Ron was telling a thrilling tale of kidnap in which he struggled single-handedly against fifty heavily armed merpeople who had to beat him into submission before tying him up.

"But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve," he assured Padma Patil, who seemed to be a lot keener on Ron now that he was getting so much attention and was making a point of talking to him every time they passed in the corridors. "I could've taken those mer-idiots any time I wanted."

"What were you going to do, snore at them?" said Hermione waspishly. People had been teasing her so much about being the thing that Viktor Krum would most miss that she was in a rather tetchy mood.

Ron's ears went red, and thereafter, he reverted to the bewitched sleep version of events.

* * *

As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course.

Aries and the golden owl Bree had obtained at Christmas, Apollo, were quite pleased that Bree never sent them out.

"I can't believe you kept that thing." Hermione complained. "It's not even a real owl, it won't be able to deliver post.

"Not why I got it. It looks cool and eats metal. How badass is that?" Bree replied while feeding Apollo a fork.

* * *

One day, before Potions, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in a huddle outside the classroom door with Pansy Parkinson's gang of Slytherin girls. All of them were looking at something Harry couldn't see and sniggering heartily. Pansy peered excitedly around Goyle's broad back as Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached.

"There they are, there they are!" she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. Pansy had a magazine in her hands - Witch Weekly.

The moving picture on the front showed a curly-haired witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large sponge cake with her wand.

"You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!" Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside. Bree decided to ask about the magazine after class.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione discussed the article during class. Not noticing Snape come up behind them.

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is Miss Granger," said an icy voice right behind them, and all three of them jumped, "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape had glided over to their desk while they were talking. The whole class was now looking around at them. Malfoy took the opportunity to flash POTTER STINKS across the dungeon at Harry.

"Ah… reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of Witch Weekly. "A further ten points from Gryffindor… oh but of course…" Snapes black eyes glittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings…"

The dungeon rang with the Slytherins' laughter, and an unpleasant smile curled Snape's thin mouth. He began to read the article aloud.

"'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache… dear, dear. Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps- yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss. Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl." However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest. "She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it." Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate.' How very touching," sneered Snape, rolling up the magazine to continued gales of laughter from the Slytherins.

"Well, I think I had better separate the three of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

Furious, Harry threw his ingredients and his bag into his cauldron and dragged it up to the front of the dungeon to the empty table. Snape followed, sat down at his desk and watched Harry unload his cauldron. Harry resumed the mashing of his scarab beetles.

"All this press attention seems to have inflated your already over-large head Potter," said Snape quietly, once the rest of the class had settled down again. Bree was sitting at the table behind Harry and could hear every word.

Harry didn't answer.

"You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you," Snape went on, "but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."

Harry tipped the powdered beetles into his cauldron and started cutting up his ginger roots. His hands were shaking slightly out of anger, but he kept his eyes down, as though he couldn't hear what Snape was saying to him.

"So I give you fair warning, Potter," Snape continued in a sorter and more dangerous voice, "pint-sized celebrity or not - if I catch you breaking into my office one more time -"

"I haven't been anywhere near your office!" said Harry angrily, forgetting his feigned deafness.

"Don't lie to me," Snape hissed, his eyes boring into Harrys. "Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said coldly.

"You were out of bed on the night my office was broken into!" Snape hissed. "I know it Potter! Now, Mad-Eye Moody might have joined your fan club, but I will not tolerate your behavior! One more nighttime stroll into my office, Potter, and you will pay!"

"Right," said Harry coolly, turning back to his ginger roots. "I'll bear that in mind if I ever get the urge to go in there."

Snape's eyes flashed. He plunged a hand into the inside of his black robes and drew out a small crystal bottle of a completely clear potion.

"Do you know what this is Potter?" Snape said, his eyes glittering dangerously again.

"No." said Harry.

"It is Veritaserum - a Truth Potion so powerful that three drops would have you spilling your innermost secrets for this entire class to hear," said Snape viciously. "Now, the use of this potion is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. But unless you watch your step, you might just find that my hand slips" - he shook the crystal bottle slightly - "right over your evening pumpkin juice. And then Potter… then we'll find out whether you've been in my office or not."

"Careful Snape. With the way your talking people might start lumping you together with Moody." Bree hissed.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for eavesdropping, Smith." Snape said coldly.

"If you don't want people to hear you, don't talk in a crowded room." Bree sneered back.

There was a knock on the dungeon door.

"Enter," said Snape in his usual voice.

The class looked around as the door opened. Professor Karkaroff came in. Everyone watched him as he walked up toward Snape's desk. He was twisting his finger around his goatee and looking agitated.

"We need to talk," said Karkaroff abruptly when he had reached Snape. He seemed so determined that nobody should hear what he was saying that he was barely opening his lips; it was as though he were a rather poor ventriloquist.

"I'll talk to you after my lesson, Karkaroff," Snape muttered, but Karkaroff interrupted him.

"I want to talk now, while you can't slip off, Severus. You've been avoiding me."

"After the lesson," Snape snapped.

Karkaroff hovered behind Snape's desk for the rest of the double period. He seemed intent on preventing Snape from slipping away at the end of class. Keen to hear what Karkaroff wanted to say, Harry deliberately knocked over his bottle of armadillo bile with two minutes to go to the bell, which gave him an excuse to duck down behind his cauldron and mop up while the rest of the class moved noisily toward the door. Bree on the other hand, got out of there as soon as possible so she could ask Hermione who had written the article.

It had been Rita Skeeter.

"Rita… Rita, Rita, Rita. Time to stop holding. God, this is going to be fun." A manic grin took over Bree's face.

* * *

One of the benefits of having a big family is that you have connections everywhere, even if you don't know it. Bree knew what connections she had. She found out during reunions and family visits. Most of the time it was easy. A cousin who works in an embassy, an uncle who's a lawyer. People like to talk about their jobs, compare their experiences, and complain about the incompetents they are forced to work with, but as cool as it was to hear cousin Darrell talk about the time he chased a would-be robber away from his store with a baseball bat, the more interesting relatives were the ones who _didn't_ talk about their jobs.

Cousin Leo (Leonard) said he worked in shipping and didn't say much else about it. But Bree had found out that he could get anything, cheap, no questions asked, no paper trail. She had gotten several pounds of fertilizer and put it in the Dursley's back yard (You'll remember this from way back in chapter 12).

Cousin Leo's dad, Uncle Vince (Vincent), said he worked in construction. As Bree got older she realized that he didn't. Vince was one of the relatives Bree saw more often than others. He was her Grandfather's brother's son. When you're around someone a lot you can sort of tell when there're hiding something, and boy was he hiding something. Uncle Vince was a gangster. Bree knew this, and today, Bree was going to take advantage. She wrote him a letter.

Uncle Vince, I've got a problem.

There's this reporter that won't take a hint. She keeps writing stories that aren't factual and that hurt my friends. Can I get some help?

Love,

Bree

She sent Aries out with a letter and got a response about two hours later.

Hey Bree, it's good to hear from you. Your Dad says you're doing well up at your boarding school.

That reporter you need help with, it's Rita Skeeter, right? She's ruined the lives of a lot of good people with her lies. When your next Hogsmade weekend? I'll come up and we can talk.

Vince

The next Hogsmade weekend was the next day and Bree wasn't sure if Vince would make it on such short notice, and was curious as to how he knew about Hogsmade in the first place. Vince assured Bree that he would be there and he would explain everything.

* * *

Bree met Uncle Vince the next day at a back table in the Three Broomsticks. Vince was tall, 6' 5", in his late forties and had broad shoulders and a square jaw line. He had black hair, gray eyes, and was wearing a suit.

"Uncle Vince!" Bree called out happily.

"Bree!" Vince exclaimed. He embraced Bree and lifted her slightly off the ground, then put her back down. "Now let's talk."

They sat down at a table with two other men.

"These are Otto and Ben." Vince said offhandedly.

They were both shorter than Uncle Vince. But Otto appeared to made entirely out of muscle. He looked to be around the same age as Uncle Vince and was bald with a crooked nose and had a scar across is left cheek. Ben was fit, but not as muscled as Otto. He was in his twenties, and was good looking, with brown hair and green eyes.

"Otto here is a muggle, like me, but Ben's a wizard." Uncle Vince explained. "Ben, some privacy." Vince requested.

"Muffliato." Ben murmured, waving his wand.

Uncle Vince grinned broadly. "Now anyone who might try to listen in will only be able to hear a buzzing noise." He stated.

"So mind explaining the…" Bree gestured vaguely. Vince chuckled.

"A couple of generations back one of the right hand men of the boss at the time had a kid that got invited to Hogwarts. That opened up a whole new business opportunity. And when that Voldemort guy came around, people that didn't want to join him, or be under the thumb of that Dumbledore coot, came to us, well the ones that knew anyway." he explained.

"So that means that the new recruits were all on the darker side of things. Anyone on the light side would already have been on Dumbledore's side." Bree stated.

"Exactly. Shame too. Some of them we could have used in the organization. Of course, you're in Gryffindor. Your housemates are all the next generation of the light." Vince said.

"It'd be tough to shake their faith in Dumbledore, and it's not like they don't have others options already, what with Voldemort being gone and all." Bree said.

"There are rumors going around that the dark might make another grab for power soon. Bertha Jorkins went missing, then the incident at the World Cup, you and the Potter kid getting into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and no one has seen Barty Crouch in person for months. Something is going to go down." Vince stated.

Bree smirked. "And we're going to be there to profit, one way or another. Alright, I'll see what I can do but we've gotta get a handle on this Rita problem first." she said.

"We can just take care of her, right?" Otto suggested.

Bree glared. "And what do we when the Prophet hires an equally sharp tongued reporter in her place?" she hissed.

Otto blinked dumbly. "Take care of him?" he said. Bree pinched the bridge of her nose.

Ben spoke up. "Forgive Otto. He's all muscle and no brain. He doesn't understand that we need a long term solution, not a short term one."

"I don't think he know the difference between the two." Bree stated.

Ben sighed. "Well yes. But he's great in a fight and good at intimidation, and that's why we keep him around." he explained.

"What do you think a long term solution for Skeeter would be?" Vince asked Bree. He had his own ideas, but wanted to test her.

"We get her under our control. Maybe the whole paper too, since they're the ones that keep printing her trash." Bree stated.

"And if we can't get her to play ball?" Vince pressed.

"In that case the thing to do would be to take care of her and find someone who will cooperate, but if that happens I don't want her dead. I want her to break. I want her life ruined worse than what she's ever done to anyone else." Bree declared calmly.

Vince patted her on the back. "Good answer kid. I like your style."

* * *

**Ahh, the first taste of alcohol, and then the second, less pleasant taste when the hangover kicks in. I'll leave it to you to imagine how Bree got drunk and what happened in New New Orleans. Every time I imagine it Bree breaks the fourth wall.**


	40. Year 4: Don't worry about it

**WARNING-There are some bad words in this chapter. But they were in the original monolog. Also, I don't own Greg Proops' monolog or Harry Potter. If I owned either of those things then I'd be rich, Fred wouldn't have died, and Bree would be canon. **

The day after Bree had talked to Uncle Vince was Sunday. Bree wanted crab cakes for breakfast. Hogwarts doesn'

* * *

t generally serve crab cakes for breakfast, so Bree went to the kitchens, where the house elves quickly whipped up a batch for her. She was half-way through her plate of crab cakes when Harry, Ron, and Hermione came in.

Harry gifted Dobby with new socks.

"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!" he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.

"You saved my life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," said Harry.

"No chance of more of those éclairs, is there?" said Ron, who was looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.

"You've just had breakfast!" said Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of éclairs was already zooming toward them, supported by four elves.

"Dobby, where's Winky?" Hermione, who was looking around, asked.

"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," Dobby answered quietly, his ears drooping slightly.

"Oh dear," said Hermione as she spotted Winky.

Winky was sitting on a stool. She had allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed. She was clutching a bottle of butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As they watched her, she gave an enormous hiccup.

"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispered.

"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry said.

But Dobby shook his head. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir," he said.

Winky hiccupped again. The elves who had brought the éclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work.

"Winky is pining, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered sadly. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."

"Hey, Winky," said Harry, struck by a sudden inspiration, walking over to her, and bending down, "you don't know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."

Winky's eyes flickered. Her enormous pupils focused on Harry. She swayed slightly again and then said, "M - Master is stopped - hic - coming?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill."

Winky swayed some more, staring blurrily at Harry.

"Master- hic- ill?"

Her bottom lip began to tremble.

"But we're not sure if that's true," said Hermione quickly.

"Master is needing his - his - Winky!" whimpered the elf. "Master cannot - hic - manage - hic - all by himself…"

"Winky - hic - is not only - hic - doing housework for Mr. Crouch!" Winky squeaked indignantly, swaying worse than ever and slopping butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. "Master is - hic - trusting Winky with - hic – the most important - hic - the most secret…"

"What?" said Harry.

But Winky shook her head very hard, spilling more butterbeer down herself.

"Winky keeps - hic - her master's secrets," she said mutinously, swaying very heavily now, frowning up at Harry with her eyes crossed. "You is - hic - nosing, you is."

"Winky must not talk like that to Harry Potter!" said Dobby angrily. "Harry Potter is brave and noble and Harry Potter is not nosy!"

"He is nosing - hic - into my master's - hic - private and secret - hic - Winky is a good house-elf- hic - Winky keeps her silence - hic - people trying to - hic – pry and poke - hic -"

Winky's eyelids drooped and suddenly, without warning, she slid off her stool into the hearth, snoring loudly. The empty bottle of butterbeer rolled away across the stone-flagged floor. Half a dozen house-elves came hurrying forward, looking disgusted. One of them picked up the bottle; the others covered Winky with a large checked tablecloth and tucked the ends in neatly, hiding her from view.

"We is sorry you had to see that, sirs and miss!" squeaked a nearby elf, shaking his head and looking very ashamed. "We is hoping you will not judge us all by Winky, sirs and miss!"

"She's unhappy!" said Hermione, exasperated. "Why don't you try and cheer her up instead of covering her up?"

"Begging your pardon, miss," said the house-elf, bowing deeply again, "but house-elves has no right to be unhappy when there is work to be done and masters to be served."

"Oh for heavens sake!" Hermione cried. "Listen to me, all of you! You've got just as much right as wizards to be unhappy! You've got the right to wages and holidays and proper clothes, you don't have to do everything you're told - look at Dobby!"

"Miss will please keep Dobby out of this," Dobby mumbled, looking scared. The cheery smiles had vanished from the faces of the house-elves around the kitchen. They were suddenly looking at Hermione as though she were mad and dangerous.

"I hope you won't judge us all by Hermione's example." Bree stated.

"Good-bye!" The house-elves crowded around Harry, Ron, and Hermione and began shunting them out of the kitchen, many little hands pushing in the smalls of their backs.

"Thank you for the socks, Harry Potter!" Dobby called miserably from the hearth, where he was standing next to the lumpy tablecloth that was Winky.

"You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione?" said Ron angrily as the kitchen door slammed shut behind them.

Bree was once again alone with the house elves. "Sorry about her. She just doesn't get it." Bree said.

* * *

Hermione and Ron sent the rest of the day sniping at each other over their homework in the common room. Bree got her work done as quickly as possible and went out to cause chaos.

Bree had decided that she hadn't traumatized the first years enough, having been distracted by the tournament. She started off with something simple. She told them that Draco would give them candy if they hugged him. They believed her, thus proving that Gryffindors will believe anything.

* * *

332. Not allowed to tell first years that Draco will give them candy if they hug him.

* * *

Fleur had been nicer to Bree and Harry ever since they had gotten her sister out of the lake. But the rest of the Beauxbatons students were… French. Really "I'm better than you and England sucks" French. Bree didn't like the complaining about the food and the climate. Of course Bree didn't defend England, because she thought those things too. She had learned to live with it. The French had not and Bree was really getting fed up with them. Then the subject of Bree's heritage came up and the French began to complain about America, and Bree did something about it. At dinner she stood up on the table and got everyone's attention.

"I come from America and I know that often America seems like kind of a, I don't know, a red neck, dick head, pecker wood, bo-hunk, ye-haw, gun toting, psycho-Christian, anti-choice, homophobic, truck driving, dog in the back, ginny cap wearing, ya know, the jury's still out on evolution, giant belt buckle with your name on it that you wear upside down so you can go -oh shit, that's my name- kind of place. The reason America appears this way is clearly England's fault." She paused for a moment to let the statement sink in.

"Now, convoluted logic, but follow along and you'll find rich rewards. Once upon a time the English sent people all over the world. In America we got the pilgrims. And they still celebrate Thanksgiving in England by the way, it's called "FUCK OFF PURITAN!… Day." Fred and George snickered, McGonagall looked shocked, Dumbledore looked amused, and Snape looked like he wanted to kill Bree. That last one wasn't really surprising.

"'Cause we're told a lot of lies growing up in America, about American history. And the cheapest lie were taught is about Thanksgiving, and it's all the same, ever since you're little." Bree began an intentionally bad impression of a little kid.

"The pilgrims left England to escape reli-gu-minus persecution and to seek reli-gu-minus freedom in the New World."

"And even when you're a child you're like - Excuse me teacher, teacher. Um, uh. Bullshit? Bullshit. You're just saying that, right?" Bree began a little song and dance number.

"Cause it sounds better then the truth. La, la, la ,la, la, la, la, la. It sounds better and it tastes better, so we'll all pretend it really happened. There were no women or minorities, just a bunch of white guys wearing wigs." She stopped abruptly."

"My feeling is, the pilgrims were asked to leave England. England was never funner than when the pilgrims split. The English got a little tired of these dour right wing black clad conservative gun-totting bible-thumping psycho-Christians running around, scaring everyone, confusing people by wearing buckles on their hats!"

"_Is that tight enough for ya cotton?"_

"_Yea verily. Me canst but hardly think."_

"until finally some one went: I've got an idea, why don't your little religious weirdos get in a leaky rickety little boat and -GET THE FUCK OFF THE ISLAND, HUH? Sail around the world until you hit the new world. When you get there, commit genocide of the indigenous people. Have a groovy time, knock your-selves out. We'll be back in England having the Renaissance in case anyone needs us. They send them over with guns and bibles- and no farming implements. And now I have to hear this every time I'm in London- Well, all Americans are fat and stupid… Really? Well thanks for sending over the best and brightest to start the party, huh? Maybe we can send a few gun toting Texas militia psychopaths back your way." Bree hopped off the table.

The occupants Great Hall was left in varying states of shock and amusement. Bree was given detention.

* * *

553. Not allowed to stand on the table during dinner and deliver Greg Proops' "America is England's fault" monolog.

* * *

By breakfast the next day Ron's and Hermione's bad moods had burnt out, and Ron's dark predictions that the house-elves would send substandard food up to the Gryffindor table because Hermione had insulted them proved false. The food was as good as always.

When the post owls arrived, Hermione looked up eagerly; she seemed to be expecting something.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," said Ron. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

"No, it's not that," said Hermione. "I've taken out a subscription to the Daily Prophet. I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."

"Good thinking!" said Harry, also looking up at the owls. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck -"

A gray owl was soaring down toward Hermione.

"It hasn't got a newspaper, though," she said, looking disappointed. "It's -"

But to her bewilderment, the gray owl landed in front of her plate, closely followed **by **four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" said Harry, seizing Hermione's goblet before it was knocked over by the cluster of owls, all of whom were jostling close to her, trying to deliver their own letter first.

"What on earth -?" Hermione said, taking the letter from the gray owl, opening it, and starting to read. "Oh really!" she sputtered, going rather red.

"What's up?" said Ron.

"It's - oh how ridiculous -"

She thrust the letter at Harry. Bree leaned over to read over his shoulder. The letter was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the Daily Prophet.

YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.

"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately, opening one letter after another. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you… ' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn… ' Ouch!"

She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"Undiluted bubo tuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobby gloves.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls around Hermione took flight. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone…"

"I warned her!" said Ron as Hermione hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling her hands. "I warned her not to annoy Rita Skeeter! Look at this one…" He read out one of the letters Hermione had left behind: "'I read In Witch Weekly about how you are playing Harry Potter false and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope.' Blimey, she'd better watch out for herself."

Bree scowled. The girls who had sent those letters were no better than sheep. Sheep who thought they were in the right by persecuting the victim. Bree hoped that Rita would resist being controlled. Breaking her would be so satisfying.

* * *

Hermione didn't turn up for Herbology. Hagrid, who had told them last lesson that they had finished with unicorns, was waiting for them outside his cabin with a fresh supply of open crates at his feet. They were full of a number of flurry black creatures with long snouts. Their front paws were curiously flat, like spades, and they were blinking up at the class, looking politely puzzled at all the attention.

"These're nifflers," said Hagrid, when the class had gathered around. "Yeh find 'em down mines mostly. They like sparkly stuff… There yeh go, look."

One of the nifflers had suddenly leapt up and attempted to bite Pansy Parkinson's watch off her wrist. She shrieked and jumped backward.

"Useful little treasure detectors," said Hagrid happily. "Thought we'd have some fun with 'em today. See over there?" He pointed at the large patch of freshly turned earth Harry had watched him digging from the Owlery window. "I've buried some gold coins. I've got a prize fer whoever picks the niffler that digs up most. Jus' take off all yer valuables, an' choose a niffler, an get ready ter set 'em loose."

Bree took off pyramid studded belt, pyramid studded cuff, chain bracelet, gold skull ring, leather choker, and silver bat earrings. She picked up a niffler. It was really quite cuddly.

"Hang on," said Hagrid, looking down into the crate, "there's a spare niffler here… who's missin? Where's Hermione?"

"She had to go to the hospital wing," said Ron.

"We'll explain later," Harry muttered; Pansy Parkinson was listening.

It was easily the most fun they had ever had in Care of Magical Creatures. The nifflers dived in and out of the patch of earth as though it were water, each scurrying back to the student who had released it and spitting gold into their hands. Ron's was particularly efficient; it had soon filled his lap with coins.

"Can you buy these as pets, Hagrid?" he asked excitedly as his niffler dived back into the soil, splattering his robes.

"Yer mum wouldn' be happy, Ron," said Hagrid, grinning. "They wreck houses, nifflers. I reckon they've nearly got the lot, now," he added, pacing around the patch of earth while the nifflers continued to dive. "I on'y buried a hundred coins. Oh there y'are, Hermione!"

Hermione was walking toward them across the lawn. Her hands were very heavily bandaged and she looked miserable. Pansy Parkinson was watching her beadily.

"Well, let's check how yeh've done!" said Hagrid. "Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle," he added, his beetle-black eyes narrowed. "It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."

Goyle emptied his pockets, looking extremely sulky. It turned out that Ron's niffler had been most successful, so Hagrid gave him an enormous slab of Honeydukes chocolate for a prize. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch; the rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes. Harry noticed Madame Maxime watching them out other carriage window.

"What yeh done ter your hands, Hermione?" said Hagrid, looking concerned.

Hermione told him about the hate mail she had received that morning, and the envelope full of bubotuber pus.

"Aaah, don worry," said Hagrid gendy, looking down at her. "I got some o' those letters an all, after Rita Skeeter wrote abou me mum. 'Yeh're a monster an yeh should be put down.' 'Yer mother killed innocent people an if you had any decency you d jump in a lake.'"

"No!" said Hermione, looking shocked.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, heaving the niffler crates over by his cabin wall. "They're jus' nutters, Hermione. Don' open 'em if yeh get any more. Chuck 'em straigh' in the fire."

"You missed a really good lesson," Harry told Hermione as they headed back toward the castle. "They're good, nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"

Ron, however, was frowning at the chocolate Hagrid had given him. He looked thoroughly put out about something.

"What's the matter?" said Harry. "Wrong flavor?"

"No," said Ron shortly. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?"

"What gold?" said Harry.

"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup," said Ron. "The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the Top Box. Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

Harry had to think for a moment before he realized what Ron was talking about.

"Oh…" he said, the memory coming back to him at last. "I dunno… I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

They climbed the steps into the entrance hall and went into the Great Hall for lunch.

"Must be nice," Ron said abruptly, when they had sat down and started serving themselves roast beef and Yorkshire puddings. "To have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."

"Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night!" said Harry impatiently. "We all did, remember?"

"I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes," Ron muttered. "I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've given me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."

"Ron. Shut up. He would've have given you the hat anyway 'cause you're his friend." Bree snapped.

Ron speared a roast potato on the end of his fork, glaring at it. Then he said, "I hate being poor."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Neither of them really knew what to say.

"It's rubbish," said Ron, still glaring down at his potato. "I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a niffler."

"Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," said Hermione brightly. Then, when Ron continued to look gloomy, she said, "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus." Hermione was having a lot of difficulty managing her knife and fork, her fingers were so stiff and swollen. "I hate that Skeeter woman!" she burst out savagely. "I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"

"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. She'll be getting hers real soon." Bree stated.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked.

Bree grinned predatorily. "Don't worry about it." she said.

Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione over the following week, and although she followed Hagrid's advice and stopped opening it, several of her ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults at her for the whole Hall to hear. Even those people who didn't read Witch Weekly knew all about the supposed Harry-Krum-Hermione triangle now. Harry was getting sick of telling people that Hermione wasn't his girlfriend.

"It'll die down, though," he told Hermione, "if we just ignore it… People got bored with that stuff she wrote about me last time."

"I want to know how she's listening into private conversations when she's supposed to be banned from the grounds!" said Hermione angrily.

Hermione hung back in their next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to ask Professor Moody something. The rest of the class was very eager to leave; Moody had given them such a rigorous test of hex-deflection that many of them were nursing small injuries. Harry had such a bad case of Twitchy Ears, he had to hold his hands clamped over them as he walked away from the class. Bree had hit her shin against a desk and was limping. Instead of deflecting hexes she had been in her own words "Getting the hell out of the way." Deflection might not always work, but if you weren't in the path of the hex to begin with, it didn't really matter.

"Well, Rita's definitely not using an Invisibility Cloak!" Hermione panted five minutes later, catching up with Harry, Ron, and Bree in the entrance hall and pulling Harry's hand away from one of his wiggling ears so that he could hear her. "Moody says he didn't see her anywhere near the judges' table at the second task, or anywhere near the lake!"

"Hermione, is there any point in telling you to drop this?" said Ron.

"No!" said Hermione stubbornly. "I want to know how she heard me talking to Viktor! And how she found out about Hagrid's mum!"

"Maybe she had you bugged," said Harry.

Bugged?" said Ron blankly. "What… put fleas on her or something?"

Harry started explaining about hidden microphones and recording equipment. Ron was fascinated, but Hermione interrupted them.

"Aren't you two ever going to read Hogwarts, A History?"

"What's the point?" said Ron. "You know it by heart, we can just ask you."

"All those substitutes for magic Muggles use- electricity, computers, and radar, and all those things -" Bree cut Hermione off.

"They aren't substitutes. They're unique. Wizards can't even pronounce electricity. There's no Wizarding equivalent of the internet, otherwise you would've been able to find the spell that let's you breathe underwater within a few minutes. Wizards may have radio, but muggles have radio, CD's, and MP3s. The electrical components of technological devices don't work right when there's a lot of magic in the environment. But you know what? Spell don't work right on technology. Wizards can get brooms to fly, fireplaces to transport where you need to go, and you know they did something weird with the knight bus, but more complicated muggles inventions that generate an electric field, like computers and TVs, screw up magic." Bree ranted. She left, leaving stunned silence in her wake.

* * *

The workload was mounting ever higher in the days before the Easter holidays. It was surprising that Hermione could research magical methods of eavesdropping as well as everything else they had to do.

Hedwig showed up at the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Fred's, George's, Harry's, Ron's, and Bree's eggs were the size of dragon eggs and full of homemade toffee. Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken egg. Her face fell when she saw it. Bree frowned.

"Your mum doesn't read Witch Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."

Bree frowned more. People who so readily believed propaganda, weren't people that Bree wanted to associate with. Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg.

"Don't you want to see what Percy's written?" Harry asked her hastily.

Percy's letter was short and irritated.

As I am constantly telling the Daily Prophet, Mr. Crouch is taking a well-deserved break. He is sending in regular owls with instructions. No, I haven't actually seen him, but I think I can be trusted to know my own superior's handwriting. I have quite enough to do at the moment without trying to quash these ridiculous rumors.

Please don't bother me again unless it's something important. Happy Easter.

Bree was reminded of what Uncle Vince had told her. She snorted in distain. "Handwriting can be forged." she muttered.

"I think you're reading to much into this." Fred stated.

"Crouch probably just wanted to get away from Percy." George added.

* * *

The start of the summer term would normally have meant that Harry was training hard for the last Quidditch match of the season. This year, however, it was the third and final task in the Triwizard Tournament for which he needed to prepare, but none of the champions knew what they had to do. Finally, in the last week of May, Professor McGonagall held Harry and Bree back in Transfiguration.

"You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock. Potter, Smith." she told them. "Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

So at half past eight that night. Harry and Bree left in Gryffindor Tower and went downstairs. As they crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from the Hufflepuff common room.

"What d'you reckon it's going to be?" he asked the two Gryffindors as they went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."

"That wouldn't be too bad," said Harry.

They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turned through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field.

"What've they done to it?" Cedric exclaimed indignantly, stopping dead.

The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"Oliver would have a heart attack." Bree commented.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello there!" called a cheery voice.

Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Bree, Harry and Cedric made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed at Harry and Bree as they came nearer. \

"Well, what d'you think?" said Bagman happily as Bree, Harry and Cedric climbed over the last hedge. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry," he added, grinning, spotting the less than- happy expressions on Harry and Cedric's faces, "you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then -

"Maze," grunted Krum.

"That's right!" said Bagman. "A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We simply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures… then there will be spells that must be broken… all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." Bagman grinned at Harry and Cedric. "Then Mr. Krum will enter… then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

Bree, who knew only too well the kind of creatures that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all. However, she nodded politely like the other champions.

"Very well… if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly…"

* * *

The next morning there were rumors going around that morning that Crouch had shown up rambling crazily, attacked Krum, then disappeared. Bree went up to the owlery to send a note to Uncle Vince. At the same time the twins were on their way to send a letter to Bagman.

They were arguing back and forth the entire way.

"- that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that-"

"- we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did -"

"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!"

"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"

The Owlery door banged open. Fred and George came over the threshold, then froze at the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred said at the same time.

"Sending a letter," said Harry and George in unison.

"What, at this time?" said Hermione and Fred.

Fred grinned.

"Fine - we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us," he said. He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands. Harry glanced at it, but Fred, whether accidentally or on purpose, shifted his hand so that the name on it was covered.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Fred said, making a mock bow and pointing at the door.

Ron didn't move. "Who're you blackmailing?" he said.

The grin vanished from Fred's face. George glanced at Fred, before smiling at Ron.

"Don't be stupid, I was only joking," he said easily.

"Didn't sound like that," said Ron.

Fred and George looked at each other. Then Fred said abruptly, "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but -"

"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," said Ron. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."

"What's it matter if the person you're blackmailing deserves it?" Bree asked. "If you had something on Skeeter, wouldn't you use it?"

"You're blackmailing Skeeter?" Hermione inquired. Fred and George looked interested, Bree hadn't been exactly forthcoming with her plans for Skeeter.

"Nope." Bree answered.

"But you said that I shouldn't worry about Skeeter anymore." Hermione replied.

"Yeah. But that doesn't involve blackmail." Bree stated as she gave Aries the letter.

"What does it involve?" George asked. Bree looked at him, then at the other four Gryffindors. It was too soon. The twins blackmailing Bagman was a step in the right direction, but Bree wasn't sure how well they'd take what Uncle Vince had planned for Rita, and as for the other three… they'd go to Dumbledore in a heartbeat.

Bree smiled sweetly. "Don't worry about it." she said, then she left.

"The more she tells me not to, the more I worry." Hermione stated.

* * *

**You should be worried Hermione. You should be. **


	41. Year 4: Solving a problem with fire

It had been days since Bree had sent the letter to Uncle Vince and currently the blond was bored. Very, very bored. She vocalized this to the others occupants of the common room.

"You should be getting ready for the last task." Hermione stated.

Bree sighed. "I have been for the last couple of days, the twins were teaching me some of the more advanced spells, but I got kind of bored practicing the same spells over and over, so I started making up my own. Now Fred is unconscious and George won't speak to me…. Not that he can." The blond looked Hermione in the eye.

"You now that saying "Cat got your tongue"? It's like that only with a small angry lizard. And screaming. And blood." Bree said. Awkward silence descended.

It was Bree who broke the silence. "By the way the spell for summoning a hoard of angry lizards is "Iratus lacertae hic" which is apparently Latin for "angry lizards here."

* * *

It was a Monday. Bree didn't like Mondays because the weekend always ended on a Monday. Today Bree's problem with Monday was that she had divination, it was a warm day and _Trelawney never put out the fire in her class room._

The dimly lit room was swelteringly hot. The fumes from the perfumed fire were heavier than ever. Bree opened one of the windows and sat down.

"My dears," said Professor Trelawney, sitting down in her winged armchair in front of the class and peering around at them all with her strangely enlarged eyes, "we have almost finished our work on planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed most interestingly at the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights…"

She waved her wand and the lamps went out. The fire was the only source of light now. Professor Trelawney bent down and lifted, from under her chair, a miniature model of the solar system, contained within a glass dome. It was a beautiful thing; each of the moons glimmered in place around the nine planets and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air beneath the glass. Bree decided to get the Doctor to take her to see the real thing. Professor Trelawney began to point out the fascinating angle Mars was making to Neptune.

It was all very peaceful. And then Harry started screaming. He was thrashing on the floor clutching his scar.

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of Professor Trelawney's room. His eyes were watering. The whole class was standing around him. Ron was kneeling next to him, looking terrified. Bree was on his other side, feeling a bit sick.

"You all right?" Ron asked.

"Of course he isn't!" exclaimed Professor Trelawney, looking thoroughly excited. Her great eyes loomed over Harry, gazing at him. "What was it Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?"

"Nothing." Harry sated. Bree helped him sit up. He was shaking.

"You were clutching your scar!" said Professor Trelawney. "You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! Come now Potter, I have experience in these matters!"

Harry looked up at her.

"I need to go to the hospital wing, I think," he said. "Bad headache."

"My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!" said Professor Trelawney. "If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever -"

"Shut up." Bree growled.

"I don't want to see anything except a headache cure," Harry mumbled.

He stood up. The class backed away. They all looked unnerved.

"See you later," Harry muttered to Ron, and he picked up his bag and headed for the trapdoor, ignoring Professor Trelawney, who was wearing an expression of great frustration, as though she had just been denied a real treat. Bree was glaring at her. Suddenly Trelawney seemed to remember something.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What?" Bree snapped.

"It's been nearly a year now. Have you come to terms with you saw in the orb?" Trelawney pressed.

Oh. Third year. The crystal ball. Bree had zoned out and Trelawney had thought she had gone into a trance. With everything else that had happened, Bree had forgotten about that day. Bree could feel the traces of a smile tugging at her lips. She let out a laugh. The incident with the crystal ball hadn't been a vision, but Bree had had visions. She had seen things because of the psychic worm. She realized that she had been having visions all of her life, she just hadn't realized it until recently. Technically she had come to terms with the things she had saw. She just never saw any of those things in the orb.

"There are extraordinary things out there. Extraordinary people did, are doing, going to extraordinary thing and made, are making, are going to make, extraordinary discoveries. Past, present, future. Time is progressing, lives are changing, the universe is moving, twisting, turning, beautiful, ugly, twisted, perfect, glittering, chaotic, destructive, constructive, and alive." The class was staring at her. Bree closed her eyes and smiled. It was rare smile. Not a grin or smirk meant to intimidate or so the world that she didn't give a damn, but a blissful, happy smile. Bree opened her eyes.

"You're never going to see any of it. You spend all your time up here in this tower, trying to force yourself to see the future that you really shouldn't worry about. Even if you see it, you can't change it. If it's supposed to happen it will happen. If it's not supposed to happen then…" Bree shrugged, she had wanted to say _then a mad-man in a blue box will come fix it_ but couldn't, "You shouldn't be spending your whole life trying to see the future. You should be going out there and living in the present."

"But you have seen visions of the beyond." Trelawney pressed. The smile vanished from Bree's face. She sighed in exasperation and left the classroom.

* * *

While Trelawney was convinced that Bree had the gift of prophecy, the rest of the class wasn't so sure. It was Bree after all, she had a tendency to make things up and play pranks, there was no way she could see the future, right?

Lavender and Parvati would point and whisper when Bree was around, and pretty soon the whole school knew.

"Hey Smith! Make any predictions lately!" Draco taunted, some other Slytherins snickering behind him.

"Yeah. You're going to die a virgin." Bree responded dryly. Fred and George began laughing and the Slytherins were now snickering at Draco.

* * *

As a Tri-Wizard champion, Bree was exempt from the end-of-term exams so that she could prepare for the last task. Instead of practicing spells the way she had before, the twins (after getting Bree to promise that she wouldn't create any new spells) dueled with Bree. This method was far more interesting and didn't result in any "mishaps."

Bree got frustrated with Trelawney because she kept pushing Bree for a prediction. Eventually Bree got fed up and gave her one. It didn't have anything to do with Hogwarts or the Wizarding world and as long as the Doctor didn't catch wind of it right away the timeline would stay intact.

"Silence will fall when the question is asked." Bree stated. "_There" _she thought "_let that screw with your head for awhile."_

"What question?" Trelawney asked.

"The obvious one."

Trelawney took Bree's prediction and expanded on it, calling for the end of the world in a frenzy that can only be matched by a toddler on caffeine. She had to be sedated by Madam Pomfrey and Divination was cancelled indefinitely.

* * *

Bree had been called to the headmasters office.

"I assume you know why you're here." he stated as Bree engaged in a staring contest with Fawkes the phoenix.

"Because I made Trelawney have a breakdown." Bree answered, never breaking eye contact with Fawkes.

"Yes. The other students said you made a prediction. "Silence will fall when the question is asked." Is this correct?" Dumbledore inquired.

Bree's eyes were starting to water. She blinked. Fawkes looked mug. Bree finally looked at Dumbledore. "Actually now that I think about it a better way to put would be "Silence _must_ fall when the question is asked."" she explained.

"What is the question?" the Headmaster asked.

"There isn't one. I made it up." Bree lied.

"Are you sure that there's nothing you want to tell me?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Yes. There is nothing that I want to tell you." Bree stated truthfully.

* * *

Bree was surprised when she got a letter from Percy one morning.

"Dear Miss Smith," it read.

"It has come to my attention that ambassador "John Smith" is not an ambassador and I will be informing the Ministry of magic of this so that they can press charges.

Sincerely,

Percy Weasley."

Bree responded with her own letter.

"Dear Percy,

I am well aware that "John Smith" is not an ambassador. He saved my life. He's saved a lot of peoples lives. A lot of important people. They wouldn't allow him to be sent to jail, and really, no one would be able to catch him. So, good luck with that.

Sincerely,

Bree"

Bree soon received two more letters. The first one was from Percy. His hand writing was rather shaky.

"Dear Bree,

I changed my mind.

Percy"

The second one was from… someone.

"Dear stunningly attractive blond of superior intelligence,

We got Percy to change his mind.

Sincerely,

You'll figure it out.

P.S If you ever find yourself in a creepy graveyard, HIT THE DECK!"

P.P.S Loop de loop.

* * *

Rita Skeeter hadn't written an article since Bree had met with Uncle Vince. Hermione was convinced that Bree had something to with her sudden absence from the media. Bree would respond to this accusation with a grin before stating "Honestly Hermione, I don't know what happed to Skeeter." Which was true. Bree had no idea what Vince had done to Rita.

At breakfast on the morning of the Third task Hermione kept shooting suspicious looks at Bree. Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward Harry and.

"Potter, Smith, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said.

"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front, afraid he had mistaken the time.

"I'm aware of that, Potter," she said. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them." She moved away.

Bree stared. Her parents lives were scheduled well in advance. In order for either of them to show up they would have had to have been invited last year. Or Bree would have to attempt to seize the Malfoy fortune again and/or kill someone.

"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" he asked Ron blankly.

"Dunno," said Ron. "Harry, I'd better hurry, I'm going to be late for Binns. See you later."

Bree and Harry finished their breakfasts in the emptying Great Hall. Fleur Delacour got up from the Ravenclaw table and join Cedric as he crossed to the side chamber and entered. Krum slouched off to join them shortly afterward. Harry stayed where he was and Bree was stirring the remains for her eggs around trying to figure out how McGonagall could have possibly gotten her parents to show up.

The door of the side chamber opened, and Cedric stuck his head out.

"Harry, Bree, come on, they're waiting for you!"

Utterly perplexed Bree got up. Her parents couldn't possibly be here, could they? She walked across the Hall and followed Harry into the chamber. Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversing with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. He had inherited his fathers hooked nose. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, was holding her mother's hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning.

Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Sirius, and Remus were standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at Harry.

"Surprise!" Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as he smiled broadly and walked over to them.

Ben, the Doctor, Amy, and Rory were in a nearby corner. Bree grinned and walked over to them.

"So which one of you am I supposed to be related to?" she asked the Doctor, Amy, and Rory.

"Me. We're both Smiths after all." the Doctor answered. Bree gave him a look.

"Using that logic I'm also related to Mickey and Sarah Jane." she said before turning to Ben.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Who are they?" Ben responded, indicating Amy, Rory, and the Doctor.

"They saved my life." Bree replied. It didn't really answer the question, but Ben nodded and switched to a different subject.

"Your parents couldn't got time off on such short notice and Vince is busy dealing with the media." Bree smiled at that. Vince was dealing with Rita. "Vince sends his best wishes, as do Leo and the Boss." Bree's smile got bigger. "The Boss" was Vince's wife Lisa, who was the daughter of the previous Boss and had proved herself more capable then her brother. "You Mother says "Don't do something stupid" and your Father says "Don't screw up like you did running the bases in tee ball." Bree's smile dropped.

"So… how about a tour?" the Doctor suggested.

They headed toward the Great Hall. Harry's group seemed to have had the same idea. As they passed Amos Diggory, he looked around.

"There you are, are you?" he said, looking Harry up and down.

"Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedrics caught you up on points, **are **you?"

"What?" said Harry.

"Ignore him," said Cedric in a low voice to Harry, frowning after his father. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Triwizard Tournament – you know, when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."

"Didn't bother to correct her, though, did he?" said Amos Diggory, loudly enough for Harry to hear as he started to walk out of the door with Mrs. Weasley and Bill. "Still… you'll show him, Ced. Beaten him once before, haven't you?"

"Can we drop him in the Alps for a bit?" Bree whispered to the Doctor.

"No."

"Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!" Mrs. Weasley said angrily. "I would have thought you'd know that, working at the Ministry!"

"Oh like you're one to talk!" Bree muttered.

Mr. Diggory looked as though he was going to say something angry, but his wife laid a hand on his arm, and he merely shrugged and turned away.

Line

The group spent the morning walking around the castle and went to the Great Hall for lunch. They sat at the Gryffindor table.

"This is different." Ben commented.

"What do you mean?" Bree asked.

"I was in Slytherin." Ben answered.

Harry's group came in.

"Mum - Bill!" said Ron, looking stunned, as he joined the Gryffindor table. "What're you doing here?"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs. Weasley brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh… okay," said Ron. "Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few.

"It's all right," he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

Fred, George, and Ginny came to sit next to them too and Sirius told everyone about the time that the Marauders slipped a potion that caused the drinkers skin to turn blue into the Syltherins drinks, spelled their clothes white with pointy white hats, and changed their house crest into Papa Smurf.

"James and I were never allowed to watch a muggle cartoon again." he finished when Hermione walked in.

"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, much more stiffly than usual.

"Hello," said Hermione, her smile faltering at the cold expression on Mrs. Weasley's face.

Harry looked between them, then said, "Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Weasley "No - of course I didn't!"

"Yeah right." Bree muttered.

But Mrs. Weasley became considerably warmer toward Hermione after that.

Bree's group hung out by the lake. The Doctor gave lessons on how to properly skip a stone. Rory didn't do well at it and hit the squid in the eye.

They returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast. Ludo Bagman and Cornelius Fudge had joined the staff table now. Bagman looked quite cheerful, but Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting next to Madame Maxime, looked stern and was not talking. Madame Maxime was concentrating on her plate, her eyes looked red. Hagrid kept glancing along the table at her.

There were more courses than usual, and Bree hoarded a plate of Maryland crab cakes. As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table, and silence fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way

down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now."

Bree and Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding them. The Weasleys, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Amy, Rory, the Doctor, and Ben all wished them good luck, and they headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-foot-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices and the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into their seats. "WHAT DID THEY DO TO IT!" Bree heard Sirius scream. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid, who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," said Professor McGonagall to the champions. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The champions nodded.

"Off you go, then!" said Bagman brightly to the four patrollers.

The four of them walked away in different directions, to station themselves around the maze. Bagman now pointed his wand at his throat, muttered, "Sonorus," and his magically magnified voice echoed into the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! In first place, with eighty-eight points is Miss Bree Smith of the Smith Academy!" The cheers and applause sent birds from the Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky. "Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each - Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, of Hogwarts School and the American Institute!" More applause. "In second place, with eighty points - Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" Some more applause. "And in third place – Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

"So… on my whistle, Bree!" said Bagman. "Three - two - one -"

He gave a short blast on his whistle, Bree hurried forward into the maze.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment Bree entered the maze. She pulled out his wand and muttered, "Lumos."

After about fifty yards, she reached a fork. She went right. Bree heard Bagman's whistle for the second time. Harry and Cedric had entered the maze. Bree turned a corner and ran into one of Hagrid's Skrewts. It was enormous. Ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from Bree's wand, which he pointed at it. Bree turned around and went another way instead of trying to fight it.

Bagman's whistle blew in the distance for the third time. Krum was now inside.

Once she was well away from the Skrewt, Bree used a point me spell. The wand spun around once and pointed toward her left, into solid hedge. That way was north, and she knew that she needed to go northwest for the center of the maze.

The whistle blew a fourth time. Fleur was in the maze.

Bree ended up taking several turns and getting turned around once before she was able to head north west. After a few minutes Bree rounded a corner and found a crack in the hedge. A crack in the universe.

Bree froze. It couldn't be. The cracks had been sealed there was no way … boggart. Of course.

"Riddikulus!" The boggart became a polka dotted ribbon. Bree moved on. After a few more turns she used the point me spell again and found her way blocked by a hedge. Wait a minute. It was a hedge, not a wall. It was an obstacle, but not an impassible one.

"Incendio!"

She burnt a hole in the hedge and stepped through it. It sealed shut behind her. She repeated the process several times until she heard a scream. She hesitated. Standing in place trying to decid what to do. After a dew minutes, red sparks went up and she kept going. She found herself next to a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman.

"Hello." Bree greeted. "I'm not going to try one of your riddles. Care to hear one of mine?"

The sphinx spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice. She seemed rather amused.

"Alright." she said.

"Demons run when a good man goes to war.

Night will fall and drown the sun

When a good man goes to war.

Friendship dies and true love lies,

Night will fall and the dark will rise

When a good man goes to war.

Demons run, but count the cost.

The battle's won, but the child is lost." Bree paused for a moment, then asked. "Who is the good man?"

The sphinx thought for a moment. "The Doctor." she finally replied.

"Oh you are good." Bree said happily.

The sphinx eyed Bree. "Not many of your kind know of the Doctor." she stated. Bree grinned.

"Not many of my kind are me." she replied before casting incendio on the next hedge and stepping through the hole.

* * *

Bree finally found herself looking at Triwizard Cup. It was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. Harry was coming up behind her. Bree and Harry ran as fast as they could, trying to outpace each other. Suddenly a dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of them.

Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup.

Then Bree saw something immense over a hedge to the left, moving quickly along a path that intersected with her own; it was moving so fast Cedric was about to run into it, and Cedric, his eyes on the cup, had not seen it –

"Cedric!" Harry bellowed. "On your left!"

Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as a gigantic spider stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Cedric.

"Stupefy!" Harry yelled. The spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy black body, but for all the good it did, he might as well have thrown a stone at it. The spider jerked, scuttled around, and ran at Harry instead.

"Stupefy! Impedimenta! Stupefy!"

The spells were doing no more than aggravating it. Harry was lifted into the air in its front legs; struggling madly, he tried to kick it; his leg connected with the pincers and next moment he was in excruciating pain. Cedric yelled "Stupefy!" too, but his spell had no more effect than Harry's - Harry raised his wand as the spider opened its pincers once more and shouted "Expelliarmus!"

It worked - the Disarming Spell made the spider drop him, but that meant that Harry fell twelve feet onto his already injured leg, which crumpled beneath him.

Harry aimed and the spiders underbelly and suddenly the spider was hit with three Stupefys.

The three spells combined did what one alone had not: The spider keeled over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy legs.

"Harry!" Cedric shouted. "You all right? Did it fall on you?"

"No," Harry called back, panting. His leg it was bleeding freely. There some sort of thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers on his torn robes.

"That doesn't look good." Bree stated.

Harry tried to get up, but his leg was shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. Bree helped him up and let him lean on her shoulder.

Cedric was standing feet from the Triwizard Cup, which was gleaming behind him.

"Take it, then," Harry panted to Cedric. "Go on, take it. You're there."

"Go on and we can get out of here." Bree said.

But Cedric didn't move. He merely stood there, looking at Harry. Then he turned to stare at the cup, a longing expression on his face. Cedric looked around at Harry again. Cedric took a deep breath.

"You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."

"That's not how it's supposed to work," Harry said.

"The one who reaches the cup first gets the points. That's you. I'm telling you, I'm not going to win any races on this leg."

Cedric took a few paces nearer to the Stunned spider, away from the cup, shaking his head.

"No," he said.

"Stop being noble," said Harry irritably.

Bree sighed.

"You told me about the dragons," Cedric said. "I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming."

"I had help on that too," Harry snapped, trying to mop up his bloody leg with his robes.

"You helped me with the egg - we're square."

"I had help on the egg in the first place," said Cedric.

"We're still square," said Harry, testing his leg gingerly; it shook violently as he put weight on it; he had sprained his ankle when the spider had dropped him.

"You should've got more points on the second task," said Cedric mulishly. "You stayed behind to get all the hostages. And Bree went back to help you. I should've done that."

"I was the only one who was thick enough to take that song seriously!" said Harry bitterly.

"I thought Harry was drowning." Bree stated.

"Why don't you take the cup then." Harry suggested.

"Why don't all three of us take it?" Bree suggested.

"What?"

"We'll take it at the same time. We'll tie for it."

Cedric stared. He unfolded his arms.

"You - you sure?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah… we've helped each other out, haven't we? We all got here. Let's just take it together."

For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears; then his face split in a grin.

"You're on," he said. "Come here."

He grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and he and Bree helped Harry limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's gleaming handles.

"On three, right?" said Harry. "One - two - three -"

He and Cedric both grasped a handle while Bree gripped the base.

Instantly, Bree felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. Her feet had left the ground. She could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling her onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric and Harry at her sides.

* * *

Bree felt her feet slam into the ground. Next to her Harry's injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.

"Where are we?" he said.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around. They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles - perhaps hundreds of miles - for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard

Graveyard… Why did that fill Bree with so much dread?… Oh. The letter... Well damn.

* * *

**Sorry this one took awhile. Writer's block**


	42. Year 4: Here's Voldy

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry and Bree.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie.

"No, but I feel like they should have." Bree replied. Stupid letter writer.

"Is this supposed to be part of the task?" Harry asked.

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

They pulled out their wands.

"Someone's coming," Harry said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. They couldn't make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, they could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And - several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time. The thing in the persons arms looked like a baby… or was it merely a bundle of robes?

Harry lowered his wand slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure. It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second Harry, Cedric, Bree and the short figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, Harry's wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled and he was on the ground.

A high, cold voice say, "Kill the spares."

"HIT THE DECK!" Bree cried out as she tackled Cedric to the ground. The killing curse sailed over them. Bree scrambled for the cover of the nearby headstones, pulling Cedric with her.

They hid behind a large stone angel. Bree double-checked to make sure it wasn't a weeping angel. It wasn't. Still pretty creepy though. Bree and Cedric looked backed and saw that the short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragged Harry toward a marble headstone then he slammed Harry against it.

The cloaked man was now conjuring tight cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. And Harry seemed to realize who was under the hood.

"You!" he gasped.

But the man, who Bree couldn't see from where she was, had finished conjuring the ropes and did not reply; he was busy checking the tightness of the cords, his fingers trembling uncontrollably, rumbling over the knots. Once sure that Harry was bound so tightly to the headstone that he couldn't move an inch, he drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into Harry's mouth; then, without a word, he turned from Harry and hurried away.

"What do we do?" Bree asked in a harsh whisper.

"I don't know. This…" Cedric hesitated. "This isn't a part of the tournament. That man was really trying to kill us."

"But not Harry. He must need Harry." Bree replied. She bit her lip, thinking things over.

Whatever was in the bundle of robes seemed to be stirring fretfully. A gigantic snake was slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where Harry was tied. The man was pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water.

It was larger than any cauldron seen had ever seen; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in. The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself.

"The cup might take us back. We could go get it and then get help, but we'd have to leave Harry behind." Bree finally stated. Cedric shook his head.

"We're not leaving him." he declared firmly.

"Harry dropped his wand. I'm going to get it. Cover me." Bree said. She was back on open ground before Cedric could object. She moved slowly toward Harry's wand, so that she wouldn't draw attention to herself. Cedric was watching apprehensively.

Now the man was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling flames beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of the man tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated, and Bree heard the high, cold voice again.

"Hurry!"

Bree grabbed Harry's wand and quickly rushed back to her previous position behind the stone angel.

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

"It is ready Master."

"Now…" said the cold voice.

The man pulled open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them, and Harry let out a yell that was strangled in the wad of material blocking his mouth.

It was as though the man had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing the man had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except that there had never been anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing seemed almost helpless; it raised its thin arms, put them around the man's neck, and he lifted it. As he did so, his hood fell back, and Bree saw that the man was Wormtail with a look of revulsion on his weak, pale face in the firelight as he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron. And then Wormtail lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface.

Bree forced Cedric to take Harry's wand. "We're going to split up. I'm going to distract Wormtail and you're going to get Harry. The you're going to get Harry and get out of here. No matter what happens you _have _to get out of here." she ordered.

"What about you?" Cedric asked.

"Don't worry about me, just get Harry." Bree said. The two spilt up. Cedric would go around one side and Bree would go around the other.

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

The surface of the grave at Harry's feet cracked. A fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master."

He stretched his right hand out in front of him - the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.

Wormtail cut off his hand and screamed. The hand fell into the caldron a sickening splash. The potion had turned a burning red. Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. He moved toward Harry.

"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."

Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was tied too tightly. The shining silver dagger was shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. It penetrated the crook of Harry's right arm and blood seeped down the sleeve of his torn robes. Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staggered back to the cauldron with Harry's blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened…

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead. Through the mist the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rose slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one handed over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry… and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snakes with slits for nostrils…

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cats, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness.

He held up his hands and flexed the fingers, his expression rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, nor of the great snake, which had slithered back into sight and was circling Harry again, hissing. Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry was tied; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying.

Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.

"My Lord…" he choked, "my Lord… you promised… you did promise…"

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh Master… thank you, Master…"

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please… please…"

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, there was something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo - a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth - the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark. Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it… and now, we shall see… now we shall know…"

Wormtail let out a fresh howl. Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark. It had turned jet black.

"Obscuro!" Bree shouted. The spell hit Voldemort blinding him. Chaos erupted. Cedric rushed forward to free Harry. Bree followed up with a "Depulso!" knocking Voldemort back, and then a "Confringo!" which missed its mark and hit the ground. The resulting explosion knocked Wormtail off his feet. Harry was free, and Cedric was pulling toward the cup. Voldemort had regained his vision. He snarled in rage.

"Crucio!"

It was pain beyond anything Bree had ever experienced. Her very bones were on fire and it felt like her blood wad boiling in her veins. Someone was screaming. Bree realized that it was her. It ended, and Bree found herself on her hands and knees. She clutched her wand.

"Iratus lacertae hic oppugno" she muttered. Dozens of angry lizards surged forth and began attacking Voldemort and Wormtail. Harry and Cedric were almost at the cup. Harry was struggling to get to Bree.

"We can't just leave her here!" he shouted.

"You can and you will!" Bree tried to yell, but it came out in a harsh whisper. Harry was desperate not to leave Bree behind and he did a very desperate thing.

"Accio Bree!" he yelled. Bree's eyes widened as she felt something pull her entire body forward at high speed. She crashed into Harry and Cedric just as Cedric grabbed the cup, and suddenly they were speeding away in a whirl of wind and color. They were going back.

* * *

Bree felt herself slam flat into the ground. Her face was pressed into grass; the smell of it filled her nostrils. She had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported her, and she kept them closed now. She did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of her. Her head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath her were swaying like the deck of a ship. Shock and exhaustion kept her on the ground, breathing in the smell of the grass.

The crowd was panicked and confused. Someone grabbed Bree and rolled her over. She opened her eyes and found herself looking at Cedric. Harry was sitting and the ground nearby.

"Are you alright?" Cedric asked.

"Why would you ask me that?" Bree hissed.

"Sorry." Cedric said. Suddenly, he was pulled away and the Doctor took his place.

"Is she okay?" Bree heard a voice ask.

"Yes Rory. I'm fine. I'm just laying on the ground in obvious pain because it's fun!" Bree snapped.

"Sorry." Rory replied.

"What happened?" the Doctor asked.

"He's back. Voldemort's back." Bree whispered so that only the he could her. "He crucio'd me." she added.

The Doctor picked Bree up and took her to the hospital wing.

"We have to go back." Bree stated.

"You need medical treatment, you can't go back there right now." the Doctor said.

"Not what I meant." Bree muttered. "You have a time machine. Not "back" as in "back there." "Back" as in _"back." _I got a letter from my future self, so now I need to go back and send a letter to myself."

"Ah. We'll go as soon as you're better." the Doctor replied.

* * *

It turned out that Mad-Eye Moody was really Barty Crouch Jr., having imprisoned Moody in his own truck and assumed his appearance using polyjuice potion. Everyone had thought Crouch Jr. was dead. Turned out that he and his mother had switched places using polyjuice and his mother had died in Azkaban while Jr. spent his days under the Imperius curse and an invisibility cloak. It had been Barty who confounded the Goblet and turned the cup into a portkey in a plot to restore Voldemort.

After interrogating Bart Crouch Jr., Dumbledore came to the hospital wing to ask the champions what had happened. Bree let Cedric and Harry do the talking. By the end of it Cedric's mother was holding him tightly, Mrs. Weasley was in tears and leaning heavily on Bill, and Bree was holding the Doctor's hand tightly.

Madam Pomfrey gave all three champions dreamless sleep potions and they soon drifted off.

* * *

Bree woke up, so warm, so very sleepy, that she didn't open her eyes, wanting to drop off again. The room was still dimly lit; she was sure it was still nighttime and had a feeling that she couldn't have been asleep very long.

Then she heard whispering around him.

"They'll wake them if they don't shut up!"

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"

Bree opened her eyes blearily. She could see the fuzzy outlines of Amy, Rory, and the Doctor. Ben had left to report to Lisa and Vince.

People were shouting and running toward the hospital wing.

"Safe!" A woman was shouting. "A deadly tournament with an age limit and you let children below the age limit compete!"

"There were unforeseen complications." Fudge's voice protested.

Bree sat up unnoticed by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Rory pulled back the screens. Everyone else was looking out of the curtained off areas of their respective champion.

"You call a Death Eater's plot an "unforeseen complication!" You should have postponed the tournament and conducted an investigation!"

Bree grinned, she recognized the woman's voice. The door burst open and a woman walked in. She was 5" 6', had long dark hair, chocolate brown eyes, high cheeks bones, and lips painted dark red. She was stunningly beautiful, despite her laugh lines. She was wearing a black shirt dress, belt, and heels. Vince, Otto, and Ben came in behind her, closely followed by Minister Fudge and Professor Snape.

The woman rushed over to Bree's side and began fawning over her.

"Hello Aunt Lisa." Bree greeted as Lisa gave her a squeeze. Aunt Lisa had no daughters and no nieces on her side of the family and Bree was the youngest of the Smiths that were closely related to Vince. This made Bree the baby of the immediate family and Lisa had loved to dress her up when she was little. Add there similar personalities into the mix and you have two people that got along like a house on fire.

"Oh what did they do to you?" Lisa fussed, checking Bree over for injuries.

"I'm fine now Aunt Lisa." Bree protested. Lisa petted Bree's hair before turning on the rest of the room.

"Where's Dumbledore?" she demanded.

"He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing. Don't you think you'd do better to -"

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking at all the new people present. "Why are you disturbing-" he was cut off.

"Shut up you bloody old coot! This is your fault!" Lisa shouted. Vince had moved over to Bree's side.

"Vince told us everything." he whispered.

"You are a failure as a Headmaster, and as a human being. In my nieces first year, you had a Cerberus, a possessed supporter of Voldemort, and bait for the wandering spirit of Voldemort that you left protected by traps that three eleven year olds were able to get past easily. Second year: A basilisk was petrifying students, and who stopped it? A twelve year old. Third Year: Suspected mass murderer escapes Azkaban. He gets into the school twice. What would have happened if he really was the sociopath everyone thought he was? And then theirs this year. The government reinstates a previously banned tournament. The competitors are to be chosen from three schools and they all have to be over seventeen. Five students from five different schools were chosen, two of which were _under _seventeen and you and your bloody Ministry go "Hmm that's odd, but oh well. The Goblet chose them and even though they haven't learned as much as the others, I'm sure they won't die, the tournament is safer now right?" when you should have stopped the tournament and investigated to make sure it wasn't the plot of a dark wizard. If you had that poor boy wouldn't have had his blood taken for a dark ritual and my niece wouldn't have been subjected to an unforgivable! And then this moron" Lisa pointed at Fudge. "brings a Dementor with him. You know, the dark creature that feeds off of happy memories and makes you relive the bad ones when there are three children who have just gone through the worst day of their lives and have no desire to relive those memories." Lisa finished ranting while Otto stood behind her looking imposing.

"What kind of new wards are on the school, Dumbledore? The dementor wouldn't move past the entrance hall." Fudge stated.

Bree glanced at the Doctor. According to sphinx in the maze there were magical creatures that knew about the Doctor, if the dementor had sensed the Doctor in the castle…

"Don't change the subject you bloody scum sucking wanker!" Lisa shouted.

"Aunt Lisa." Bree interjected. "Perhaps you could go yell at Dumbledork and the Minister of Morons elsewhere. My friends and I have had a rather trying day and would like to rest."

"Yes, of course dear." Lisa soothed, then led the way out of the hospital wing.

The Minister, Dumbledore, Snape, Vince, Otto, and Ben had followed Lisa out.

* * *

By the next day Fudge had called Cedric, Harry, and Bree liars and refused to believe that Voldemort had come back, Vince and Lisa had left because they couldn't stay away from their business for to long (Which really meant that they were going to get ready of the inevitable clash between the light and the dark), and Dumbledore was starting to prepare his forces, which meant that Bree would soon have to start recruiting her housemates for what she referred to as "The Third Option." Which meant shaking their faith in Dumbledore.

* * *

Percy Weasley was writing a letter to the Ministry of Magic when he heard a strange sound behind him. He turned around and saw a blue police box materializing. The door opened and Bree stepped out. She grinned at him.

"Hello Percy. Time for us to go on a little trip." she said.

* * *

**It seems to me that wild and crazy trip with the Doctor is just what Percy needs and there's this one episode of Doctor Who that I really want to introduce Bree's brand of crazy to. **

**By the way, my Birthday is on the 25****th****. For my birthday I would like some reviews please. Lot's and lot's of reviews.**


	43. Year 4: My God, this is a long one!

**Sorry I haven't updated in a month, but I've been busy with… college stuff… yeah that's it, not the video games I got for my birthday, or the vacation to California, nope is was college.**

**So this chapter is written I a slightly different style. It's based off an episode of Doctor who, The Rebel Flesh. The italics are like someone talking over an episode. Next chapter will be back to the normal writing style.**

* * *

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. She expected it to easy to convince Percy not to tell the Ministry about the Doctor. They'd just show off a bit and he'd be stunned into compliance._

"Hello Percy. Time for us to go on a little trip." Bree said.

Percy gaped. "What?"

"We. Are. Going. On. A. Trip." Bree repeated slowly.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts?" Percy asked.

"I am at Hogwarts." Bree stated. "Well a past version of me anyway. Or present version, which would make me the future version. Depends on your point of view I suppose. Anyway, there is a me at Hogwarts, and there is a me here."

"Time travel is illegal." Percy said.

"Noooo, unauthorized use of a time turner is illegal. This" Bree gestured to the box she had just emerged from "is a TARDIS."

"TARDIS?"

"Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. TARDIS. Now get in."

"No."

"Percy, get in the box."

"No!"

"Percy! Get in the box right now!"

"I won't and you can't make me!"

Bree looked put out. She turned as if she was going back to the TARDIS. "Well I guess your right." She said. "I mean there's no way-" she whirled around and tackled Percy. Much shouting and struggling ensued. Bree got Rory to help her drag Percy into the TARDIS.

"I hate you. I really hate you." Percy said from his spot on the TARDIS's glass floor. He slowly got up and looked around.

"It's bigger on the inside." he stated flatly.

"That's the first thing you say? Really? That's what everyone else says, and they're not used to things being bigger on the inside because they're muggles. You'd think a wizard could come up with something more inspired, like "Look at all the buttons!" or "What's that glowy green thing?" but no you go with "It's bigger on the inside." You disgust me" Bree ranted. She turned to the Doctor.

"Let's go see the solar system move, like on of those planetarium models, only the real thing." she said.

_It really was beautiful. The Doctor had put the TARDIS on a sort of "time-lapse" setting so that the occupants of the TARDIS could see the solar system moving out the door of the TARDIS. _

_Moons orbited planets and planets orbited to sun in an intricate dance. Solar flares lit up the earth's atmosphere, and Percy was stunned._

"How is this possible?" Percy murmured.

"The TARDIS can go anywhere in the universe, during any time period." Bree explained.

"But there's no way for something like that to exist!" Percy exclaimed.

"On earth maybe, considering the limitations of humanity, but this is Time Lord technology. You know, alien." Bree stated.

Percy looked at the Doctor, Rory, and Amy. "They're …aliens?" he questioned.

"No. Just the Doctor." Amy answered.

"How did you meet these people?" Percy asked Bree. The blond sighed.

"A long, long time ago, there was a goblin, or a trickster, or a warrior... A nameless, terrible thing, soaked in the blood of a billion galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos. And nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world. A good wizard tricked it and imprisoned it in the Pandorica. But not really, because it was all a lie. A lie spread through space and time. A lie spread by the Doctor's enemies so that one day it would reach him, and lead him to the Pandorica, so that he could be imprisoned in it." Bree explained.

"The Pandorica was a prison. Anything sealed within it was unable to escape. Not even the smallest atom. You couldn't even die if you were in it since its creators considered that to be a form of escape. They wanted to stop the TARDIS from exploding and destroying the universe, so they decided to imprison the TARDIS's pilot. But there was another who could pilot the TARDIS, and it blew up. The explosion cracked the universe. The cracks appeared everywhere, some were tiny, others were as big as the sky, but they all bore the same shape. One of them appeared in Hogwarts, that was before I had met the Doctor. I was so sure I was losing my mind." Bree paused and sighed.

"I ended up losing so much more. You see… I… died." she stated.

"You… What?" Percy asked incredulously.

"Well…" Bree began. "It was exactly death, it was more of a state of non-existence. The cracks had the ability to erase events and people from time itself, like they never happened, because they hadn't happened. That's what happened to me, the cracks made it so that I was never even born." Everyone stared at her.

"You remember not existing?" Rory asked, breaking the silence.

"Yep." Bree replied.

"Weird." Amy said. "What was it like?"

"Very white. And then the Doctor used the Pandorica to save the universe, and I woke up. Then they showed up in the hall, kidnapped me, and took me a hospital in New New York. Turned out there was a parasite in my head, giving me information and feeding of my mental energy. If it hadn't been removed it would have killed me." Bree said.

"He saved your life." Percy stated, staring at the Doctor.

"Right, so you're not going to tell the ministry that he was impersonating an Ambassador." Bree said. Percy straightened up.

_But he wasn't compliant._

"Yes I am!" he exclaimed. "Even if he did save your life, and the universe, impersonating an ambassador is illegal."

"No you're not." Bree replied. "And truthfully you don't really have a choice in the matter."

"Are you threatening me?" Percy demanded.

"No she's not!" Rory interjected. "She means that this has already happened, sort of, and you didn't report the Doctor to the Ministry then so you can't report him now because of time… stuff." He looked around awkwardly. "She got a letter." he added.

Bree rolled her eyes. "If you report the Doctor, you'll break the time loop." she stated.

"But.. it's…" Percy tried to form a sentence and failed.

"Well, I'll just let you think on that for awhile, until then…. darts?" Bree suggested.

* * *

She was banned from playing darts. She was very bad at it. If the games target had been Rory's leg then she would have won, but it wasn't so she was forced to sit it out. Amy and Rory continued to play, the Doctor was looking at something on the monitor, and Bree went and joined him.

The Doctor didn't notice her right away, he was to focused on the image on the monitor. It was a medical scan of Amy. It kept flashing "Pregnant." "Not Pregnant." as if it couldn't decide. Bree felt like she had seen this before, then she remembered.

"You figure it out yet?" she asked softly. The Doctor jumped, startled, then turned.

"Because I could tell you. It's pretty important. It's tied to a fixed event. You made the memories the worm gave dull and fuzzy, some have even been completely erased. Others are as clear as my own memories. I've thought about it, and it seems like the closer an event is to a fixed point in time the easier it is to remember. Fixed events themselves are the easiest of all to remember. So if you want to know about one, all you have to do is ask." Bree stated.

"No. It's fine." the Doctor stated, turning off the monitor.

Bree shrugged. "Well if you change your mind, it's all in my head, and what isn't could be "downloaded" so to speak." she offered.

"That would kill you." the Doctor hissed.

"Bad things are going to happen. Events are in motion. Shouldn't the man they're centered around know about them?" Bree inquired.

"It's dangerous to know to much about your own future."

"I suppose. But it's not just you're future on the line. " Bree looked over at Amy and Rory.

"You know Doctor, I told you that I can remember fixed events clearly, they're always rather traumatic to the people involved, maybe that's why I can't forget them." she stated.

"Maybe." the Doctor agreed. Bree looked back at the Doctor.

"Most of the fixed events I've remembered involve your companions. Hell, Jack is a fixed event. But you know, all those past events, I don't think their as bad as the one that's next." Bree said, before walking away, leaving the Doctor with his thoughts.

* * *

"Who wants fish 'n' chips?" the Doctor asked. Rory raised his hand.

"I'll drop you all off. Take your time. Don't rush." the Doctor said."Uh, and you?" Rory asked."I have things to do, things involving... other things." the Doctor answered.

"Well, we'll stay with you. We'll do the other things." Amy said as she and Rory joined the Doctor at the console."Nope." the Doctor replied."Whatever you're up to, I, personally, would like to be a part of it." Amy stated.

"You don't know that. What if he wants to go rob a grave or something?" Bree interjected.

"Why would the Doctor rob a grave?" Rory asked.

He never got an answer. An alarm went off was unexpected. the TARDIS began shake and toss its passengers about. Everyone clung to the nearest solid object.

"Solar Tsunami. Came directly from your sun. A tidal wave of radiation. Big, big, big!" the Doctor exclaimed."Ohh, Doctor, my tummy's going funny." Rory moaned."Well, the gyros are dissipated. Target-tracking is out." the Doctor a grunt, the he threw a lever that did nothing.

"Well that was useless. To the lifeboats!" Bree shouted.

"It doesn't have lifeboats!" the Doctor yelled.

"Is there an emergency exit?" Bree yelled back.

"No! Just… Assume the position!" the Doctor shouted. Everyone ducked down and covered their heads.

Suddenly everything stopped. Everyone slowly got up.

"Textbook landing." the Doctor stated calmly.

"What textbook? You didn't even pass the test!" Bree complained.

"There's a test?" Amy asked.

"Of course. They don't let just anyone travel through time and space." Bree stated.

"Then how did he get…" Percy struggled for the right word. "this." he gestured hopelessly.

"Stole it." Bree answered.

"So he is a criminal!" Percy declared.

"I think we already established that when I told you he kidnapped me." Bree stated.

"And you trust this man?" Percy asked incredulously.

Bree gave him a flat look. "Okay, first off, his entire life story is. In. My. Head. He's a good man. Second, Percy, I'm and criminal. Three of your brothers are criminals. My Aunt and Uncle are criminals. You can be a criminal and still help people. And third, are we going to go see where we are now?" she said.

* * *

They had landed on a island. Near a monastery that wasn't a monastery and a weathervane that wasn't a weathervane, and everything looked so very, very familiar to Bree, she just couldn't place it.

_If only Percy had been compliant._

The monastery turned out to be a factory that pumped acid to the mainland. The factory had five workers Jennifer, a young brunet with her hair in a ponytail, Cleaves an older woman with frown lines that made her look very stern, Jimmy an older man with white hair, Buzzer, who was younger than Jimmy and had brunet hair and a large nose, and Dicken who was younger then the other two men , and had blond hair. They all wore orange jumpsuits.

Cleaves was the boss, and she hadn't been happy to find the group in there. Although, to be fair, Bree didn't want to be there and Percy and Amy were kind of weirded out by being there. The room the were in was full of windowed alcoves that had human-shaped harnesses in them which are occupied by four people in orange jumpsuits. Four people that looked exactly like Buzzer, Jimmy, Dicken, and Cleaves. One of the harnesses was empty.

"This is an Alpha-grade industrial facility. Unless you work for the military or for Morpeth Jetson, you are in big trouble." Cleaves stated.

"Actually, you're in big trouble." the Doctor said, showing her the psychic paper.

"Meteorological department, since when?" Cleaves asked."Since you were hit by a solar wave." the Doctor replied.

"Which we survived." Cleaves retorted."Just, by the look of it. And there's a bigger one on the way." the Doctor."Which we'll also survive. Dicken, scan for bugs." Cleaves ordered

Dicken held up a scanner_._"Backs against the wall. Now." he group backed up to the wall_. _

"You're not a monastery. You're a factory. 22nd-century, army-owned factory." the Doctor stated.

"We're in the future?" Percy whispered.

"Time machine." Bree whispered back.

"You're army?" Amy asked Cleaves.

"No, love, we're contractors and you're trespassers." she finished scanning_._

"It's okay, boss." he said.

"All right, weatherman, your I.D. checks out. But that girl. That's the uniform for the Smith Academy, what's she doing here?" the woman asked.

Bree grinned, Percy seemed to be going into shock.

"Career Day." Bree replied.

"Right… If there's another solar storm, what are you going to do about it, hand out sun block?" the woman asked."Ha ha ha ha. I need to see your critical systems." the Doctor stated."Which one?" the woman asked."You know which one." the Doctor said.

"How delightfully ambiguous." Bree deadpanned.

* * *

Cleaves led everyone to what had once been the monastery's chapel. Near one end of the room was a vat on a raised platform. In front of it on the floor was an open tub the size of a person. There was liquid bubbling in the vat. The Doctor walked around to the opposite side of the vat and looks at the white liquid inside. Bree followed him. "And there you are." the Doctor declared.

Bree peered into the vat and got a strange feeling as she stared at the white liquid. That stuff was important. Very important. It would play a major role in upcoming events.

"Meet the government's worst-kept secret — the flesh. It's fully programmable matter. In fact, it's even learning to replicate itself at the cellular level." Cleaves stated.

"Right. Brilliant. Lost." Amy said.

"Okay. Once a reading's been taken, we can manipulate its molecular structure into anything, replicate a living organism, down to the hairs on its chinny-chin-chin. Even clothes, and everything's identical — eyes, voice."

"Mind, soul." the Doctor continued.

"Don't be fooled, Doctor. It acts like life, but it still needs to be controlled by us from those harnesses you saw." Cleaves said.

"Wait, whoa-oa-oa, hold it. So... You're flesh now?" Rory asked.

"I'm lying in a harness back in that chamber. We all are, except Jennifer, here. Don't be scared. This thing? Just like operating a forklift truck." Cleaves said.

"You said it could grow. Only living things grow." the Doctor stated.

"Moss grows. It's no more than that." Cleaves said.

"This acid is so dangerous, we were losing a worker every week. So now, we mine the acid, using these doppelgangers, or "gangers." If these bodies get burnt or fall in the acid…"

"Then who the hell cares? Right, Jen?" Buzzer said.

Bree stared into the vat. The feeling that something wasn't quite right and the déjà vu were joined by the feeling of something nudging at the block.

"Well, the nerve endings automatically cut off, like airbags being discharged, except we wake up and get a new ganger." Jennifer stated.

"It's weird. But you get used to it." Jimmy said.

"Jennifer, I want you in your ganger. Get back to the harness." Cleaves Doctor used the sonic to scan the Flesh.

"Hang on. What's he up to? What are you up to, pal?" Buzzer Doctor seemed to struggle in order to move his arm.

"Stop it. Ahh!" he seemed to finally free his arm from something. "Strange. It was like, for a moment there, it was scanning me." The Doctor put the sonic back in his pocket and then reached his hand out to touch the top of the liquid with his palm. At the same moment Bree felt the urge to poke gasped, something was prodding at her mind., trying to send her a message, but it couldn't overcome the block. She couldn't pull away, neither could the Doctor.

"Get back. Leave it alone!" Cleaves exclaimed.

"Ahh! Ah! Ah! Gah!" the Doctor shouted. He pulled his hand away Percy grabbed Bree and pulled her away.

"I understand." the Doctor stated.

"What were you thinking?" Percy hissed.

"Wasn't." Bree said shakily. She felt weird. Right before she had been pulled away a word had gotten past the block. Just a single word: Why?

_This ever so strange situation._

"Are you two all right?" Amy asked.

"Incredible. You have no idea. No idea. I mean, I felt it in my mind. I reached out to it and it, to me." the Doctor said."Don't fiddle with the money." Cleaves said."How can you be so blinkered? It's alive, so alive. You're piling your lives, your personalities, directly into it."Lightning crashed as the Doctor took out a snow globe and examined it. The ground shook."It's the solar storm. The first waves come in pairs — pre-shock and full shock — it's close." the Doctor explained.

"My heads gone funny." Bree mumbled. She blinked rapidly and shook her head trying to clear her thoughts. It didn't work."Buzz, have we got anything from the mainland yet?" Cleaves asked.

"No, the comms are still too jammed with radiation." Buzzer answered.

"Okay, then we'll keep pumping acid until the mainland says stop. Now, why don't you stand back and let us impress you." Cleaves started pouring into the tub. Soon a face began to form. The mouth first and then the eyes. The Flesh then formed itself into Jennifer except that face wasn't fully defined.

She sat up with a gasp, now fully formed.

"That's amazing." Percy said.

"Well, I can see why you keep it in a church. The miracle of life." the Doctor stated.

"No need to get poncey. It's just gunge." Buzzer said.

"It really isn't." Bree muttered.

"Guys, we need to get to work." Cleaves stated."Okay, everybody. Let's crack on." Jimmy said as he helped Jennifer out of the tub.

"Did I mention the solar storm? You need to get out of here." the Doctor reminded everyone."Well, where do you want us to go? We're on a tiny island." Jimmy said.

"Well, I can get you all off it." the Doctor said.

"Don't be ridiculous. We've got a job to do." Cleaves argued."Can't do it if you're dead." Bree muttered.

The Doctor pulled the snow glob out again and examined it.

"It's coming." he alarm blared."That's the alarm." Jennifer said.

"No! Really? I never would have guessed that, you know aside from the obvious." Bree said sarcastically.

Percy elbowed her in the ribs. "Don't be rude." he hissed.

"How do you get power?" The Doctor asked."We're solar and we use a solar router. The weather vane." Cleaves answered.

"Big problem." the Doctor said."Boss, maybe if the storm comes back, we should get underground. The factory's seen better days. The acid pipes might not withstand another hit." Jimmy said."We have 200 tons of acid to pump out. We fall behind, we stay another rotation. Anyone want that?" Cleaves asked.

"Please." the Doctor grabbedCleaves by the arm and pulled her aside.

"You are making a massive mistake here. You're right at the crossroads of it. Don't turn the wrong way. If you don't — if you don't — prepare for this storm, you are all in terrible danger, understand?" he said.

"My factory, my rules." Cleaves declared then walked away.

"I don't really see a problem with that, so long as she's willing to take the blame." Bree stated.

"Blame for what?" Percy asked.

"The inevitable." Bree replied.

"I need to check the progress of the storm." the Doctor said. He snapped his fingers. "Monitoring station."

Jennifer Doctor snapped his fingers again. "Monitoring station!"

"Three lefts, a right, and a left. Third door on your left." Jennifer answered."Thank you." the Doctor said.

* * *

They entered the room as the building shook from the storm. In the center was a circular bank of instruments."The wave's disturbing the earth's magnetic field. There is going to be the mother and father of all power surges. You see this weather vane, the cock-a-doodle-doo? It's a solar router, feeding the whole factory with solar power. When that wave hits, kaboom. I've got to get to that cockerel before all hell breaks loose." The Doctor explained. He went to leave the room but stoppedin the doorway and chuckled_. _

"I never thought I'd have to say that again. Ah. Amy, breathe." He left.

"Yeah! I mean, thanks, I'll try." Amy called after him.

"What was that about?" Amy asked.

"You'll find out soon enough. But seriously Amy, breathe." Bree told her.

* * *

They woke up awhile later on the floor. The Doctor had disabled the weather vane right before a lighting bolt hit it. The lightning strike resulted in an energy pulse that knocked everyone one for an unknown period of time.

"Oh. For want of a better word — oww!" Rory complained.

"I can think of several better words, but then AFBree would have to raise the rating of this story." Bree muttered.

"What?" Percy asked, confused.

"Nothing." Bree answered quickly.

* * *

Amy, Rory, Bree, and Percy went back to the room with the harnesses and saw Buzzer being helped out of his harness by Dicken and Jimmy. Jennifer was off to one side holding her head."I feel like I've been toasted." Buzzer complained.

"What the hell happened?" Jimmy asked.

"The Tsunami happened. You're hurt." Amy explained.

"Well, it feels like the national grid's running through my bones, but, apart from that…" Jimmy said.

"I hope the meter's not bust. I still want to get paid." Buzzer commented.

"Why-y-y?" Jennifer moaned. Rory went over to help her while the others helped Dicken and Jimmy with Buzzer.

"Your boss should have listened. Solar router. Solar storm. Thing would've have overloaded. You're lucky you're not dead." Bree commented.

"Lucky is not the word I'd use." Jimmy stated.

"Well, you're alive right now, so that's something." Bree stated.

Doctor and Cleaves entered the room.

"Doctor, look, these are all real people. So where are their gangers?" Amy asked.

"Don't worry, when the link shuts down, the gangers return to pure flesh. Now, the storm's left us with acid leaks all over, so we need to contact the mainland. They can have a rescue shuttle out here in no time." Cleaves said. Suddenly music could be heard in the distance.

"That's my record. Who's playing my record?" Jimmy asked.

"Your gangers. They've gone walkabout." the Doctor answered.

"No, it's impossible. They're not active — cars don't fly themselves, cranes don't lift themselves, and gangers don't —" Cleaves cut herself turned to the sound of the music. Bree smirked.

"Ever heard of auto-pilot?" she inquired.

_And it was only getting stranger._

* * *

They went to the dining hall where a record was playing on the turntable as they entered the room through the thick plastic strips.

"No way." Buzzer said.

"I don't — I don't believe this." Cleaves stuttered.

"They could've escaped through the service door in the back." Jimmy said.

"This is just like the Isle of Sheppey." Buzzer said.

The Doctor sat at the table and examined a house of cards."It would seem the storm has animated your gangers." he stated.

"They've ransacked everything." Cleaves said.

"Not ransacked, searched." the Doctor corrected.

"Through our stuff?" Cleaves asked.

"Their stuff." the Doctor replied.

"Searching for what?" Jimmy asked.

"Confirmation. They need to know their memories are real." the Doctor said.

"Oh, so they've got flaming memories now." Buzzer growled.

"They feel compelled to connect to their lives, yeah."

"Their stolen lives." Cleaves said.

"No, bequeathed. You gave them this. You poured in your personalities, emotions, traits, memories, secrets — everything. You gave them your lives. Human lives are amazing. Are you surprised they walked off with them?" the Doctor questioned.

"I'll say it again — Isle of Sheppey. Ganger got an electric shock, toddled off, killed his operator, right there in his harness. I've seen the photos. This bloke's ear was —" Buzzer was interrupted.

"Even if this has actually happened, they can't remain stable without us plumbed into them — can they, boss?" Jimmy asked.

Cleaves was silent for a moment. "I guess we'll find out."

Jennifer gasped and Rory went to her side.

"Are you okay? Do you need some water?" he asked.

"I feel funny. I need the washroom." Jennifer answered, then left the room.

"I'll come with you." Rory said as he followed.

Dicken sneezed on Amy. "Sorry." he said.

The Doctor leaned forward and studied the house of cards.

"That's me. It's good to have a hobby. So, what, my ganger did that, all on its own?" Buzzer asked.

"Who taught you to do this?" the Doctor inquired.

"Me granddad." Buzzer replied.

"Well, your ganger's granddad taught him to do it, too. You both have the same childhood memories, just as clear, just as real." the Doctor explained.

"No." Buzzer said, knocking down the house of cards.

"They're scared, disorientated, struggling to come to terms with an entire life in their heads." the Doctor stated.

The Doctor went to the microwave while everyone else stayed around the table, gathering supplies.

"We need to protect ourselves." Jimmy said.

The Doctor put a container of food into the microwave.

"Are you a violent man, Jimmy?" he asked.

"No." Jimmy answered.

"Then why would the other Jimmy be?" the Doctor replied.

"Don't tell me you can eat at a time like this, Doctor." Cleaves said.

"You told me that we were out cold for a few minutes, Cleaves, when, in fact, it was an hour." the Doctor stated.

"Sorry, I just assumed —" Cleaves began but was cut off.

"Well, it's not your fault. Like I said, they're disorientated." the Doctor said before turning to Amy. "Amy, when you got to the alcoves, who was in harness?" The timer on the microwave went off and the Doctor took out the plate using a towel as he talked.

"Um, Jimmy and Dicken were helping Buzzer out." Amy replied.

"Jennifer?" the Doctor questioned.

"She was standing on her own when we got to her." Bree said.

The Doctor handed the plate to Cleaves and she held it in her bare hand, staring incredulously at the Doctor.

"It's hot." he informed her. She hissed and dropped the plate which shattered on the floor.

"The transmatter's still a little rubbery." The Doctor stated, examining Cleaves hand. "The nerve endings are not quite fused properly."Cleaves pulled her hand away.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded.

"It's okay." the Doctor soothed.

"Why didn't I feel that?" Cleaves asked in a scared tone.

"You will. You'll stabilize." the Doctor assured her.

"No, stop it. You're playing stupid games. Stop it!" Cleaves shouted, turning away from the Doctor.

"You don't have to hide. Please, trust me. I'm the Doctor." the Doctor turned on the Doctor with a hiss, her face in its half-formed state. Buzzer grabbed a knife from the table and headed towards her but Jimmy held him back.

"Where's the real Cleaves, you thing? What have you done with her?" Buzzer demanded.

"That's it, good. You remember. This is early flesh, the early stages of the technology. So much to learn." he said to Ganger Cleaves.

"Doctor, what's happened to her?" Amy asked."She can't stabilize — she's shifting between half-formed and full-formed. For now, at least." the Doctor explained.

"We are living!" Ganger Cleaves yelled.

She lunged at the Doctor with a growl then ran from the room screaming.

"Let her go." The Doctor said.

"Doctor, Rory." Amy said.

"Rory?" the Doctor gestured around the room.

"Rory!" she exclaimed."Oh, Rory. Rory! Always with the Rory!" the Doctor exclaimed.

The Doctor, Amy, Bree, Percy and Jimmy went to look for Rory left the dining area. When they got outside they found their way blocked by acid on the ground.

"The explosion must've ruptured the acid feeds. We're going to need the acid suits." Jimmy said.

"No, no, no, we haven't got time. Back, back, back." the Doctor went in the opposite direction.

The group finally got to the washroom. There was a hole in one of the stall doors.

"Rory!" Amy exclaimed.

"Of course. Jennifer's a ganger, too." the Doctor stated.

"Doctor, you said they wouldn't be violent." Amy said.

"But I did say they were scared, and angry." the Doctor replied.

"And early technology, is what you said. You seem to know something about the flesh." Jimmy accused.

"Do you? Doctor?" Amy asked. The Doctor was silent.

"You're no weatherman. Why are you really here?" Jimmy demanded.

"I have to talk to them. I can fix this." the Doctor said. He ran from the room, the others followed him.

"Wait! What's going on? Where's the real Jennifer?" Jimmy yelled.

They reached the top of a set of stairs and they headed down the tunnel. Acidic steam burst from a pipe and there was also acid on the ground."It is too dangerous out here with acid leaks!" The Doctor exclaimed.

"He's just now figuring that out?" Percy hissed.

Bree stomped on his foot.

"We have to find Rory." Amy insisted.

"Yes, I'm going back to the TARDIS. Wait for me in the dining hall. I want us to keep together, okay? No more wandering off." The Doctor stated.

"And what about Rory?" Amy questioned.

"Well, it would be safer to look for Rory and Jennifer with the TARDIS." the Doctor said as he left.

Jimmy spotted a box on the wall_._"Here we go." He opened the box and pulls out a large container. "Distress flares." he explained. He closed the box and was startled by the Doctor_._

"Exit?" the Doctor inquired.

"Keep going straight, can't miss it. But you're never going to get your vehicle in here." Jimmy said.

"I'm a great parker." the Doctor said, leaving , back against the wall, inched around the steam and the puddle of acid.

"We really need those acid suits. I've sent Buzzer and Dicken to get them." Jimmy said as he turned around with the container.

"Fine and dandy. I'm just going to find my husband, so...cheers." Amy said from the other side of the steam and acid.

"But, Amy, I wouldn't —" Jimmy began.

"Nor would I. What can you do, eh?" Amy stated before heading down the tunnel."At least wait for an acid suit!" Jimmy called.

"Yeah, she's not coming back." Bree said.

* * *

The sun had set plunging the factory into darkness. With the power out the only light came from flashlights.

"Is this what you meant when you said you wanted Cleaves to take the blame for the inevitable?" Percy asked as they walked back to the dining hall.

"No. I meant the deaths." Bree replied.

"What deaths? There haven't been any deaths." Jimmy protested.

Bree smirked. "I have several rules for dealing with life, Jimmy."

Percy scoffed. "More than several."

"Not those rules." Bree hissed. "Rules for life in general, not just school. Rule number one, the rule that must never be forgotten: Bad things happen. Rule number two, applicable in any situation, but especially in conjunction with rule one: People die."

"Who are you people, really?" Jimmy whispered as they entered the dining hall.

"Well we're… you see it's…" Percy was struggling to find words, so Bree took over.

"Amy is the girl who waited, The Doctor is the oncoming storm. Rory is the last centurion, Percy is really damn boring and I'm just the girl who knew to much." she said.

"What does any of that mean!" Jimmy exclaimed in frustration.

Bree just smirked and sat down at the table.

After a few minutes of silence Amy, Rory, Ganger Jennifer, Dicken, and Buzzer came in. Rory had become protective of Ganger Jennifer, Bree supposed that this was because he liked feeling depended on, not something that usually happened with the Doctor around. The others wanted answers and sat Ganger Jennifer down at the table and began questioning her.

"Where's Jen? What have you done with her?" Buzzer demanded.

"I haven't seen her. I swear. But, look, I'm her. I'm just like her. I'm real." Ganger Jennifer insisted.

"You're a copy. You're just pretending to be like her." Jimmy said angrily.

"Rory, we don't really know anything about them." Amy whispered.

"I know she's afraid and she needs our help." Rory responded.

"Jimmy, Buzzer, come on, you guys. We've worked together for two years." Ganger Jennifer pleaded.

"I work with Jennifer Lucas, not you." Buzzer said coldly.

"Okay, let's not do anything at all" Amy began. The Doctor came in."Until the Doctor gets here." they finished at the same time. "Hello." said the the Doctor. The four other Gangers, looking human, entered behind him.

"This is —" Jimmy began.

"You're telling me." said Ganger Jimmy.

"All right, Doctor, you've brought us together — now what?" Ganger Cleaves asked.

"Before we do anything, I have one very important question — has anybody got a pair of shoes I could borrow? Size 10. Although I should warn you — I have very wide feet." The Doctor said. Everyobe stared at him.

* * *

Doctor was sitting on the edge of the table and he's now wearing brown boots. Amy stood behind him. Bree hadn't moved from her spot at the table and Percy was standing next to her. To one side were the Originals and on the other, the Gangers. Ganger Jennifer stood next to Rory."The flesh was never merely moss. These are not copies. The storm has hardwired them. They are becoming people." The Doctor explained.

"With souls?" Jimmy asked.

"Rubbish." Dicken said, then he sneezed. "Ah-choo!"

"Bless you." said Ganger Dicken.

"We were all jelly, once. Little jelly eggs, sitting in goop." the Doctor stated. Bree and Percy got grossed out looks on their faces.

"Yeah, thanks. Too much information." Amy said.

"We are not talking about an accident that needs to be mopped up. We are talking about sacred life. Do you understand? Good. Now, the TARDIS is trapped in an acid pool. Once I can reach her, I can get you all off this island, humans and gangers, eh, how does that sound?" the Doctor inquired.

"Can we get home for Adam's birthday?" Jimmy asked with a smile on his face.

"What about me? He's my son, too." Ganger Jimmy said.

"You_?_ You really think that?" Jimmy asked incredulously.

"I feel it." Ganger Jimmy answered.

"Oh, so you were there when he was born, were you?" Jimmy questioned.

"Yeah. I drank about 8 pints of tea and they told me I had a wee boy and I just burst out laughing." Ganger Jimmy laughed. "No idea why. I miss home. As much as you." Jimmy had a stunned look on his face.

"Look, I'm not going to lie to you. It's a right odd mess, this. But, as you might say up north, "oh, well, I'll just go to t' foot of the stairs." Ha ha ha. Eh, bye-bye, gone. Or not. Good. Right. The first step is we get everyone together, then get everyone safe, then get everyone out of here." The Doctor said.

"But we're still missing Jennifer and Cleaves." Amy reminded him.

"I'll go and look for them." Jimmy stated and headed for the door.

"I'll give you a hand, if you like." Ganger Jimmy said as he joined the original by the door. "Cover more ground."

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks." Everyone was watching the two Jimmys and they didn't see Cleaves enter behind them, carrying a box like device in one hand. The device had a wire that connected to a to pronged probe that she carried in her other hand.

"This circus has gone on long enough!" she shouted. Everyone turned to face her, including Bree who had to stand up to do so. There was a crackle of electricity from the device in Cleaves' hand.

"Oh, great. You see, that is just so typically me." Ganger Cleaves said.

"Doctor, tell it to shut up_." _Cleaves demanded.

"Please, no. No! No!" the Doctor pleaded.

"Circuit probe. Fires about, oh, 40,000 volts. It would kill any one of us, so I guess she'll work on gangers, just the same." Cleaves stated viciously.

"It's interesting you refer to them as "it," but you call a glorified cattle prod a "she." the Doctor said.

"When the real people are safely off this island, then I'll happily talk philosophy over a pint with you, Doctor." Cleaves said.

"What are you going to do to them?" Amy demanded.

"Sorry, they're monsters, mistakes. They have to be destroyed." Cleaves declared.

"Give me the probe, Cleaves." the Doctor implored.

"We always have to take charge, don't we, Miranda? Even when we don't really know what the hell is going on." Ganger Cleaves said.

Suddenly Ganger Buzzer charged at Cleaves and she fired at him three times. He fell to the ground. The Doctor ran over to him and kneeled. Bree turned away, tears forming in her eyes. Percy pulled her close, as if trying to shield her from the sight.

"Stop! Oh! Ah! He's dead!" the Doctor shouted.

"We call it "decommissioned." Cleaves informed him moved the probe around in the air and Ganger Jennifer gasps and ducks when it was aimed in her direction.

"You stopped his heart. He had a heart! Aorta, valves — a real, human heart! And you stopped it." The Doctor yelled. Bree whimpered.

"It'll be alright." Percy whispered.

"Jen?" Rory questioned.

"What happened to Buzz will happen to us all, if we trust you!" Ganger Jennifer Doctor stood up.

"Wait, wait. Just wait." he saw the Cleaves looked like she was going in fire the probe again.

"No!" he yelled, rushing at her and knocking her to the ground. He took the probe away from her and disabled it. The Gangers took advantage of the situation and ran from the room.

"You idiot!" Cleaves yelled at him.

"Wait!" the Doctor called after the got up as did Cleaves.

"Look at what you've done, Cleaves." the Doctor admonished.

"If it's war, then it's war. You don't get it, Doctor. How can you? It's us and them now." Cleaves turned to Jimmy Dicken and Buzzer. "Us... And them."

"Us and them." Dicken repeated.

Jimmy sighed "Us and them." he said.

Bree was no longer crying at this point. She was angry. She pulled away from Percy and turned to Cleaves.

"It wouldn't have to be if you weren't so stupid!" she screamed.

"Everything was fine until you showed up. You with your stupid over glorified cattle prod and your fear of what different from you. Oh but that's the human thing to do, isn't it? "It's different, it's scary, instead of trying to understand it, let's kill it Or enslave it, or why don't we just get the whole thing over with an exterminate the entire race." God, it's like watching history repeat itself." Bree ranted.

"I wouldn't expect a child to understand." Cleaves sneered.

"What is there to understand? You just did something that will cause future generations to look back upon you in shame and disgust. Just like the Salem Witch trials and the subjugation of Native Americans!" Bree shouted.

"Gangers aren't human!" Cleaves yelled back.

"They my not have human bodies, but they have human instincts, human personalities, and human memories, and right now they have two very human ideas on their minds: Survival and revenge!" Bree's anger was tangible now, the windows were shaking. Percy put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down. The last thing we need is for you to lose control of your magic." he whispered so that no one else could hear. The windows stopped shaking.

Bree gave Cleaves one final glare, then walked to another part of the room.

* * *

A little while later Amy and Rory are kneeling on the floor having a whispered discussion as they cover up Ganger Buzzer. Buzzer was nearby, going through supplies. Dicken, Jimmy and Cleaves are also having their own sat on the floor in a corner of the room with Percy kneeling next to her.

"This is all in your head, right? How does this end?" Percy asked in a hushed voice. Bree sighed.

"The memories were suppressed, Percy. I can't remember the details of this events. I wouldn't remember much of this at all if it weren't so close to a fixed point." Bree answered, her voice equally hushed.

"What's a fixed event?" Percy inquired.

" Fixed points in time are events and/or individuals who have such long-standing impacts on the timeline that no one, not even Time Lords dared interfere with their natural progression. If a fixed point is interfered with, the change would be circumvented, making the timeline continue despite changes or time would freeze and collapse and reality would "die". The Doctor tried to stop one once, but the woman who's death was fixed just died in a different location on the same day." Bree explained.

"Okay. So what happens here?" Percy asked.

"The Doctor, Amy and Rory survive and leave." Bree answered.

"And the others?" Percy pressed.

"Some of them survive, but I don't remember which ones." Bree replied.

"And us?" Percy inquired.

Bree rolled her eyes. "If we die here it will create a paradox." Bree responded.

Their conversation ended when the Doctor finally spoke.

"The most fortified and defendable room in the monastery?" he asked. No one said anything.

"Cleaves! The most fortified and defendable room in the monastery?" he repeated.

"The chapel." Cleaves answered.

"Thank you." the Doctor said.

"Only one way in, stone walls, 2 feet thick." Cleaves stated.

"You've crossed one hell of a line, Cleaves. You've killed one of them. They're coming back. In a big way." the Doctor said.

* * *

Bree soon found herself running toward the chapel along with everyone else. Soon enough they were at the door.

"What about the flares?" Jimmy asked as he ran in.

"We'll worry about the flares when we're locked inside." the Doctor everyone except Rory, Amy, and the Doctor were in the chapel.

"Rory Pond." the Doctor said.

A scream echoed throughout the monastery.

Rory hesitated.

"Rory? Come on." Amy said.

"Jen's out there. She's out there and she's on her own." Rory stated_._

"Well, if she's got any sense, then she's hiding. Rory!" the Doctor called.

"I can't leave her out there!" Rory exclaimed.

"Rory!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"I know you understand that." Rory stated.

"Get in here. Get in here!" Amy cried.

Gangers arrived at the other end of the hallway. Rory dashed off through a side corridor.

"There they are!" Cleaves yelled.

"Amy." The Doctor said as hegrabbed Amy by the arm and pulled her through the doorway.

"Rory!" Amy caled. The Doctor slammed the door. The factory workers blocked the door with what they could find.

"Amy, Amy, they are not after him, they're after us." The Doctor said. Voices came from the dark corners of the room.

"Why? Why?" they cried.

"Show yourselves. Show yourselves!" the Doctor demanded.

The factory worker were still building a blockade against the door. Bree was trying to think of a spell to seal the door while engaged in a whispered debate in Percy about whether or not to use magic to help. Bree's argument: People are going to die. Percy's argument: You saw how they reacted to the gangers, we don't need them coming after us. Meanwhile the Doctor cautiously approached the corner.

"Doctor!" Amy called."Pass me the barrel." Cleaves ordered.

"We need something heavy. Anything you can find." Dicken said.

Jimmy laughed madly. "This is insane. We're fighting ourselves." he said.

"Yes, it's insane and it's about to get even more insanerer. Is that a word? Show yourself! Right now!" the Doctor yelled.

"Doctor! We are trapped in here and Rory is out there, with them. Hello! We can't get to the TARDIS and we can't even leave the island." Amy staed. The Doctor spoke but his lips didn't move. He seemed just as stunned as the others. Bree and Percy now stared at the corner in stunned silence."Correct, Pond. It's frightening, unexpected, frankly, a total, utter, splattering mess on the carpet, but I'm certain, 100% certain, that we can work this out."

_It was the strangest situation Bree and ever been in, and considering her life so far, that was saying something._

From the shadows emerged a Ganger Doctor and a Ganger Bree with half-formed faces

The Ganger Doctor straightened his bow tie.

"Trust me. I'm the Doctor."

_In retrospect Bree probably shouldn't have touched the goo._

* * *

**Did I mention that this is a two part episode? **

**Yeah this entire 27 page chapter was just an excuse to write two Bree's in the next chapter. That cracking sound you hear is Percy's sanity. Unfortunately, one will probably have to die, unless you readers like the idea and I can think of somewhere to put the extra.**

**Crysella Andorra tells me that this story got her hooked on Doctor who. Excellent. Soon we shall convert the world. **


	44. Year 4: Same mind, two different bodies

**Happy New Year dear readers! Hope it's a good one. **

**Last chapter Jay sent me a long review and it made me happy so I'm shareing it.**

**_Awesome, I vote that the two Bree's live. Bree did not do too well with the pointless death that already happened in the chapter, another her would be more personal. So far her adventure with this Docter makes me wonder where in the Doctor's past they met and which other companion's Bree gets to meet. As for Bree's relatives, go for realistically placed tv shows, movies, cartoons/anime, and books. Maybe Bree can have a friend, or two with her when she flees during seventh year. By the way, I definately like the idea of pairing Bree with a Weasley twin, they already gave off the "Back off! She's our's!" vibe when they discouraged other guys from asking her out to the ball. Hmm, quick question, will you keep canon pairings, or alter them? I only ask because it is possible for a free Sirius, happy Remus, living Cedric, and Bree can change a lot of people; especially since this trip will definately change Percy. I can not see him abandoning his family now. I mean, with the addition of Luna(who rocks!), the options just open themselves, especially since her pairing in the book was very offscreen for a semi main character. I actually hope that Bree takes her under her wing when they meet, if only because them in the same area make me laugh already in anticipation. Hope the next chapter comes soon._**

**I agree that Luna's canon pairing was weird, as for Percy... I have plans for him, yes, big plans for him. Muahahahahahah! Everyithing else you'll have to wait to find out.**

* * *

Ganger Bree adjusted to her new memories (Originals Bree's old memories) less violently than the Ganger Doctor adjusted to his new memories. This was because the Doctor had hundreds of years of memories and ten past incarnations for the Ganger Doctor to absorb. Bree only had about fourteen years worth of memories, plus the stuff the physic worm had "downloaded"

Ganger Bree, now looking completely human, clutched her head and dropped to her knees. Bree rushed forward and kneeled in front of her ganger.

"It's just a TV show…Right?" the Ganger Bree murmured, quoting something Bree had said after the crack appeared in Hogwarts. Ganger Bree giggled madly and grabbed Bree by the front of her shirt.

"What on earth would make you think I'm kind?" she asked.

Nearby the Ganger Doctor was having a fit of his own.

"What's happening? I wonder if we'll get back. Yes, one day... Aaagh! I've reversed the polarity of the neutron flow." Ganger Doctor said as he twisted and squirmed.

"The Flesh is struggling to cope with our memories. Hold on!" The Original Doctor exclaimed.

"Silence will fall when the question is asked." Ganger Bree whispered into the original's ear before resting her head against Bree's shoulder.

"Hurts." she mumbled. Bree hugged her counterpart.

The Ganger Doctor's voice changed. "Would you like a jelly-baby?" he asked. His voice went back to normal "Why? Why!" he shouted.

"Why? Why what?" The Doctor yelled. What happened next made both Bree's jump and stare at the Doctors in surprise. "Hello. I'm the Doctor." Ganger Doctor said in the tenth Doctor's voice (which was really disconcerting since Ganger Doctor looked like the eleventh Doctor). Ganger Doctor reverted to his normal voice. "No, let it go, we've moved on!"

The Doctor gripped the Ganger Doctor. "Hold on, hold on, you can stabilize!" he shouted.

Amy tried to go to the two Doctors but Jimmy and Cleaves held her back.

"I've reversed the jelly-baby of the neutron flow. Would you like a…" Ganger Doctor desperately clutched the Doctor's jacket. "Doctor...Doctor... I'm... I'm the... I can't.""No, listen, hold on. Hold on!" the Doctor pleaded.

Bree stood up and helped Ganger Bree to her feet.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"No-o-o-o!" the Ganger doctor shouted and shoved the Doctor away. "Aaaagh!" the Ganger Doctor screamed and reverted to his half-formed state.

"He's not." Ganger Bree commented.

"No, he really isn't." Bree agreed.

The gangers outside were trying to ram the door open. Bree turned and raised her wand.

"Colloportus." Bree felt her magic twist unnaturally. The spell only made the door to lock instead of merging it will the wall to seal the room like it was supposed to. She looked to around and saw some runes faintly glowing on the floor.

"How did you do that?" Jimmy asked. "This door doesn't have a lock." He was ignored.

"What's that?" Bree asked, indicating the now fading runes.

"Some kind of magic canceling ward. It's weakened, otherwise it would have stopped your spell completely." Percy answered.

"Why didn't it react to my outburst earlier?" Bree inquired.

"It's weak, and you weren't actually trying to cast a spell." Percy replied.

Bree frowned. "Can you get rid if it?"

Percy shook his head. "Bill would probably be able to, but…" he trailed off.

"Bill's not here." Bree finished. "Great. So we can't use effective magic while were here. Just perfect." she muttered The Gangers outside had stopped making noise.

"I think I liked it best when they were being noisy." Buzzer commented.

Amy went over to the Doctor.

"Doctor, we need you. Get over here." she ordered.

Ganger Doctor, now human again, turned around. "Hello!" he exclaimed.

"Doctor!" Amy called.

"Cybermats." the Doctor said randomly.

"Do we have time for this?" Ganger Doctor questioned.

"We make time. I'd like more proof that you're me. Cybermats?" the Doctor pressed.

"Created by the Cybermen. They kill by feeding off brainwaves." the Ganger Doctor answered.

Amy went back to the door."Are you sure there aren't any big guns with bits on?" she asked.

"Yeah, big guns would be good right now." Buzzer stated.

_"_Why would we have guns? We're a factory. We mine…" Jimmy trailed off as the door began to hiss and smoke.

"Acid." Amy finished.

Cleaves and Jimmy raised wrenches to use as impromptu weapons as everyone backed away from the door.

"Think we should get the Doctor now?" Ganger Bree asked.

"Yep." Bree responded. They both turned to the two Doctors who were standing side-by-side.

"Rory and Amy may not trust both of us." Ganger Doctor said.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" The Doctor questioned.

"Inevitably." Ganger Doctor answered.

"I'm glad we're on the same…" the Doctor began.

"Wavelength. You see, great minds." Ganger Doctor finished.

"Exactly. So, what's the plan?" the Doctor asked.

"Save them all, humans and gangers." Ganger Doctor answered.

"Sounds wonderful." the Doctor replied.

"Is that what you were thinking?" Ganger Doctor asked.

"It's just so inspiring to hear me say it." the Doctor answered.

"I know!" Ganger Doctor exclaimed.

"Doctor!" the Brees called.

"So, what now, Doctor?" Ganger Doctor asked.

"Well, time to get cracking, Doctor." the Doctor both walked towards the others.

"Hello! Sorry…" both Doctors said.

"But we had to establish a few…" Ganger Doctor began.

"Ground rules." the Doctor finished.

Amy noticed that Ganger Doctor was wearing black shoes while the original Doctor was wearing brown shoes.

"Formulate a…" Ganger Doctor began.

"Protocol." the Doctor concluded.

"Protocol. Very posh."

"A protocol between us. Otherwise…"

"It gets horribly embarrassing."

"And potentially confusing."

"I'm glad you've solved the problem of confusing." Amy stated sarcastically, having become confused watching the Doctors switch off while they were speaking. The Brees didn't have trouble with it, after all, it wasn't really different from watching the twins speak.

"That's sarcasm." Ganger Doctor noted.

"She's very good at sarcasm." the Doctor replied.

The Doctors turn to Amy and spoke in unison."Breathe!"

"What?" Amy said, confused.

"We have to get you off this island." Ganger Doctor said.

"And the gangers too." the Doctor added.

"Sorry, would you like a memo from the last meeting? They're trying to kill us!" Cleaves snarled. Bree coughed. It sounded a lot like "your fault stupid."

"They're scared." the Doctor declared.

"Doctor, we're trapped in here." Amy pointed out.

The Doctor stepped forward and examined the ceiling. "See, I don't think so. The Flesh Bowl is fed by cabling from above."

"But where are the earthing conduits?" Ganger Doctor asked. The Doctor talked while he looked around. "All this piping must go down into a tunnel or a shaft or something, yes? With us?" he moved some paneling and found a grate. "Yowza! An escape route!" he exclaimed.

"You know, I'm starting to get a sense of just how impressive it is to hang out with me." the Doctor stated. Ganger Doctor raised a finger and asked "Do we tend to say "Yowza?"

"That's enough, let it go, OK? We're under stress." the Doctor responded.

The Doctor used the sonic screwdriver to open the grate and everyone climbed in. The Doctor sealed the grate behind them just as the Gangers burst into the room.

* * *

They got down to another tunnel and stated walking.

"The army will send a recon team." said Buzzer.

"We need to contact the mainland." Cleaves stated.

"What about Rory and Jen? They are both out there." Amy asked.

"No. This place is a maze, it takes a long time to find someone in a maze. I bet you lot have got a computer map. Haven't you?" the Doctor asked.

"If we can get power running, we can scan for them. It'll be a lot quicker." Cleaves stated. Everyone started coughing."Doctor, you said earlier to breathe." Amy choked out."Very important, Pond. Breathe." the Doctor replied."Yeah, I'm struggling to." Amy wheezed."Acid interacting with the stone." the Doctor explained.

"Creating an asphyxiant miasma." Ganger Doctor continued."A what?" Cleaves questioned. "Chokey gas. Extra heavy. If we can get above it…" Ganger Doctor trailed off."The evac tower. This way!" Cleaves exclaimed, leading the way.

* * *

When they got to the Evac tower Cleaves and the two Doctors went to the big computer console in the middle of the room. A bell chimed the hour."It's midnight. It's Adam's birthday. My son's five. Happy birthday, bud." Jimmy said wistfully.

The Brees sat down in a couple of spinny office chairs in front of the console. Percy took one look at them simultaneously spinning around in the chairs and sighed in exasperation. He walked over and grabbed both Brees by the shoulder, effectively stopping them from moving. He couldn't tell which one was the original.

"Whoa! Sudden Stop!" Bree2 complained.

"I think I'm going to be sick." moaned Bree1.

"Then you shouldn't have done that." Percy reprimanded.

The Doctors were behind the console. "Can you really get the power back?" Cleaves asked. "There's always some power floating around. Sticking to the wires" Ganger Doctor answered as he ducked down behind the console while Ganger Doctor stood up."Like bits of lint." said the Doctor. Cleaves walked away to go look for useful items that might be in the room with Jimmy, Buzzer and Dicken.

"Can you stop finishing each other's…" Amy began but was cut off."

Sentences?" said the Doctor as Ganger Doctor stood up.

"No probs. Yes." he both ducked down.

"Hang on. You said that the TARDIS was stuck in acid, so won't she be damaged?" Amy asked. the Doctor popped up again.

"Nah. She's a tough old thing. Tough, old, sexy." he stated. Ganger Doctor stood up."No, tough, dependable, sexy." he corrected. They both crouched down again.

"Come on. OK, how can...how can you both be real?" Amy asked. Ganger Doctor came up again.

"Well, because...we are. I'm the Doctor." he stated before going back down. The Doctor stood up.

"And so am I. We contain the knowledge of over 900 years of experience. We both wear the same bowtie, which is cool." he said. Ganger Doctor popped up quickly to say "Because bowties are…" before ducking back down.

"And always will be." the Doctor said.

"But how did the Flesh read you, you weren't linked up to it?" Amy inquired.

"Neither was she." Percy sated, gesturing to the Brees.

"Didn't have to be." said Bree2.

"The Flesh ran a scan, like a copy machine, you put the paper on, it scans it, and you end up with an exact copy of the original." Bree1 said.

"It's what it was designed to do really. It just transcended the need for a harness." Bree2 elaborated.

"So each of us is just as real as the other." Bree1 said.

"I'm her and she's me." Bree2 explained.

"Just like he's him and they're each other." Bree1 reasoned.

"We're all just as real as anyone else in the world." Bree2 said with a shrug.

"But one of you was here first." Amy rationalized.

"After the Flesh scanned me, I had an accident with a puddle of acid. Now new shoes, a situation which did not confront my learned self here." the Doctor explained.

"That satisfy you, Pond?" Ganger Doctor asked.

"Don't call me Pond, please." Amy told Doctors looked at her.

"What?" Amy asked.

"Interesting. You definitely feel more affection for him than me." Ganger Doctor stated.

"No, I... Look, you're fine and everything, but he is the Doctor. No offence. Being almost the Doctor is pretty damn impressive." Amy said to him.

"Being almost the Doctor is like being no Doctor at all!" Ganger Doctor protested.

"Better than being the Meta-crisis Doctor." Bree2 informed him.

Bree1 nodded. "_He_ got banished to another universe." she agreed.

"The what?" Percy asked incredulously.

"Another copy of the of the Doctor." Bree1 clarified.

Suddenly the console lit up.

"Yes! Communication a go-go!" the Doctor rushed to the console and the two Brees were pushed out of the way.

"Find Rory! Show me the scanny, tracky screen." Amy exclaimed.

Cleaves pulled up the screen and scanned the monastery room by room.

"Come on, Rory, let's be having you." Amy said.

"There's no sign of him anywhere." Cleaves stated.

"Come on, baby, show yourself." Amy pleaded. While the scan was running, Cleaves got on the comlink."St John's calling. Emergency Alpha." she said. "St John's calling the mainland. Are you receiving me, Captain? Come in."

"We'll never get a signal through this storm." she muttered. "St John's calling the mainland. Come in, this is urgent."She finally got a response from a man over the radio.

"We're just about reading you, St John's. How are you doing? We've had all kinds of trouble here." he said."Request immediate evacuation. We're under attack. The storm's affected our gangers. They're running amok." Cleaves said."

'Your gangers?" the man questioned."Yes, our gangers are attacking us. We need you to take us off the island immediately and wipe them out." Cleaves Doctors exchanged a look and the Brees held hands, worried looks on their faces."Copy that, St John's. Shuttle's dispatched. Hang on." said the man.

"You'll need to airlift us off the roof of the evac tower." Cleaves told him. "And Captain, any further transmission sent by me must come with the following code word. I'm typing it, in case they're listening in."

* * *

Everyone was preparing to evacuate. The Brees had abandoned their spinny chairs and were discussing something in the corner.

"We don't know if both of us are going to get out of here alive." Bree1 said.

"One of us definitely will. We know that from the letter." Bree2 stated.

"But which one?" Bree1 asked.

Percy, who had been listening in, asked. "Why can't both of you survive?"

"We might still, but all we know is that a future Bree wrote a letter to a past Bree. We don't know which Bree it was and the letter didn't say anything about this," Bree2 gestured hopelessly, "so all we know for sure is that at least one Bree will survive. But we can't know for sure that it's both."

"But it's almost over, right?" Percy questioned. "Help is on the way."

Both Brees looked rather amused.

"Oh Percy," Bree1 began, "it's going to get worse before it get's better." she said darkly.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room.

"We've got to get out of here." Buzzer muttered.

"We're not leaving without them." Amy declared angrily from where she was sitting in front of the console in one of the spinny chairs the Brees had abandoned.

"I want 'em found too, but it's about casualties, innit? Can't be helped." Buzzer said.

Amy turned to the Doctor who was sitting beside her at the console."What are you doing?" she asked."Making a phone call." the Doctor answered."Who to?" Amy inquired."No-one yet. It's on delay." the Doctor replied

."Right, not getting it. Why exactly are you making a phone call?" Amy questioned."Because, Amy, I am and always will be the optimist, the hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams." the Doctor spun in his chair. "The wheels are in motion. Done." he said, spinning Amy around in her chair.

She laughed before settling next to him but facing Ganger Doctor who had been watching the whole exchange from behind them."You know, really, there can be only one." Amy Doctor made an inquiring sound. "Hmm?"

"Nothing. Carry on. Be amazing." Amy got a worried look on her face and stood up. She slowly walked towards a stone wall. She stared at nothing then gasped when nothing suprised her. At least that's what it looked like. She looked between the Doctor and the wall and back again.

"Amy? What happened?" the Doctor aked. Amy went back to her chair. "It's her again." she answered. The Brees frowned and Ganger Doctor was looking at the same spot on the wall while the conversation went on behind him_._"It's who again?" the Doctor inquired."There's a woman I keep seeing, a woman with an eye-patch, and she has this habit of sliding walls open and staring at me. Doctor?" Amy said in a scared tone."It's nothing." the Doctor replied.

"Doesn't seem like nothing." Amy muttered."It's a time memory. Like a mirage. It's nothing to worry about." the Doctor spun his chair around and went spins back to work on the console.

"It's in my head…" Ganger Doctor closed his eyes in pain before heading out of the room."Hey, hold on!" Jimmy called after him."Don't let him go." Cleaves ordered."Leave it to me." Amy said as she went after Ganger Bree1 leaned heavily on Bree2, her head resting on Bree2's shoulder.

"Head hurts." Bree1 muttered.

"I know." Bree2 replied.

"It's the eyes." Bree1 stated.

"What?" Bree2 inquired softly.

"The eyes were always the last thing to go. The flesh remembers each one of its death and it's tired of being thrown away and it wants to know "Why?" Bree1 stated.

Amy came back into the room."Keep him away from me!" she shouted. Ganger Doctor came back in."Did you sense it?" he asked the Doctor."Briefly. Not as strong as you." the Doctor answered.

"Amy, I'm sorry." Ganger Doctor said. "No, you keep away! We can't trust you." Amy shouted.

"Hypocrite." Bree1 whispered so that no one but Bree2 could hear.

"Shh! She doesn't know yet." Bree2 reprimanded."It would appear I can connect to the Flesh." Ganger Doctor stated."Well, you are Flesh." Amy countered.

"I'm beginning to understand what it needs." Ganger Doctor said.

"What YOU want. You are it." Amy insisted.

"It's much more powerful than we thought. The Flesh can grow, correct?" Ganger Doctor asked Cleaves. "Its cells can divide." Cleaves answered coolly.

"Well, now it wants to do that at will. It wants revenge. It's in pain, angry. It wants revenge."

"I was right, you're not the Doctor. You can't ever be. You're just a copy." Amy stated.

"Doctor, it might be best if you stayed over there for now, hmm?" Cleaves requested.

"Hold on a minute. Hold your horses. I thought I'd explained this. I'm him, he's me." the Doctor protested.

Buzzer walked closer, ready to use force if necessary. "Doctor, we have no issue with you. But when it comes to your ganger…" Cleaves trailed off.

"Don't be so absurd." Ganger Doctor said.

"Buzzer?" Cleaves said.

"Sure, boss." Buzzer replied. Ganger Doctor made a point of straightening his tie as Buzzer took an empty oil drum and moved it to where Ganger Doctor could sit."Take a seat, mate." Buzzer ordered. Ganger Doctor sat down. "Nice barrel, very comfy. Why not?" he said."Is this really what you want?" he asked Amy. She crossed her arms and looked at him coldly.

"What are we going to do about them?" Dicken asked, indicating the Brees.

"That depends…" Began Bree2.

"Can you tell us apart?" Bree1 finished.

"Do you know which one is human and which is a ganger?" Bree 2 asked.

"Do you know which might be a threat? 'Cause let me tell you, it might not be the ganger you need to watch out for, _Cleaves._" Bree1 said darkly.

"After all, the ganger didn't watch you _kill a man in cold blood_. Which we both agree was an incredibly stupid thing to do." Bree2 stated.

"If Cleaves died today humanity would be a lot better off." Bree 1 commented.

"Why don't you both join him?" Cleaves suggested.

* * *

A little while later, both Brees were sprawled on the floor at Ganger Doctor's feet and both were very, very bored.

"Amy is sooo _stupid._" Bree1 complained.

"I know. How could anyone think that a copy would be any different than the original? You don't Xerox a lost dog flyer and end up with a help wanted ad." Bree2 replied.

Bree1 snorted in distain. "It's because she holds him up to this ideal. A kind, forgiving Doctor." she said.

"She never saw him after the war. When he met the Daleks again he wanted to wipe them out." Bree2 responded.

"He was so angry back then." Bree1 stated.

"Amy'd be in for the shock of her life if she ever met nine." Bree2 said with a laugh. The others were finding it hard to ignore the Brees conversation.

"Poor Amy." Bree2 said.

"Yes. Poor, poor Amy. She's soon in for an even bigger shock than that." Bree1 stated seriously.

Amy turned around. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.

Both Brees looked at her.

"Rule number three." Bree1 said.

"The Doctor lies." Bree2 said.

A little while later, Amy was at the console, scanning for Rory. A call came in on the radio."This is the shuttle. We're right above you, but we can't get low enough. Gamma static could fry our nav-controls. Sit tight. We'll get to you. Just…" the man's voice was cut off by static. The Doctor took out the sonic screwdriver and scanned Cleaves, who was holding her head.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" Jimmy said into the radio transceiver.

"I can't find Rory. I'm going out there." Amy declared.

"We could use the sonic to track him. Humans and gangers give off slightly different signals. The sonic can tell the difference." the Doctor said.

"Oh, so the sonic knows gangers are different, so the other Doctor is different." Amy stated."He is the Doctor." the Doctor said.

"Not to me. I can tell." Amy argued."Sure you're not prejudiced?" the Doctor asked."Nice try, but I know, OK? We've been through too much. You're my Doctor. End of." Amy stated."So then, you can use that to tell which one of the Brees is the real one." Cleaves stated.

"Yes I could," the Doctor replied.

"Then why don't you?" Cleaves asked.

"Well, I don't think either of them would be very happy with me if I did." the Doctor replied.

"Got that right." Bree2 scoffed.

"Hey, there's a camera up. We've got a visual." Buzzer said. Amy rushed over to look at the screen."That's Rory and Jennifer." she said."They're heading for the thermostatic room." Cleaves stated, somewhat confused. Amy turned excitedly to the Doctor "Let's go get them." she said.

The Doctor tossed the sonic screwdriver to to Ganger Doctor."Hang on." Amy said."We can't let him go. Are you crazy?" Cleaves demanded. "Am I crazy, Doctor?" the Doctor asked."Well, you did once plumb your brain into the core of an entire planet just to halt its orbit and win a bet." Ganger Doctor answered."He can't go rescue them. I'm going." Amy protested."Do you know, I want him to go." the Doctor stood and looked Amy in the eye. "And I'm rather adamant." he Doctor stood up."Well, then, he'll need company, right, boss? It's fine. I'll handle it." Buzzer said.

"Can I go?" Bree1 asked.

"Why?" Cleaves asked.

"You'd rather keep us in the same room?" both Brees asked with the same grin that haunted Vernon Dursley's nightmares.

"Go ahead." Cleaves stated. Bree1 smiled.

"It'll be all right. I'll find him." Ganger Doctor assured Amy before leaving, Buzzer and Bree1 following behind him."I can't explain it to you now, but I need you to trust him. Can you do that for me, Amy?" the Doctor asked."And what if you're wrong?" Amy responded.

* * *

Cleaves and Jimmy were standing at the console. Cleaves was examining some gauges.

"These temperature gauges are rising. Jennifer and Rory must have shut off the underground cooling vents." Cleaves said."Why do that? They'll kill us." Dicken stated.

"There's a million gallons of boiling acid under our feet…" Cleaves trailed off.

"And now it's heating up the whole island. How long till it blows?" the Doctor's question was answered by an explosion that rocked the island_._

* * *

**The Brees were fun to write together****. Its fun to watch the insanity in motion. And now, I leave you with a Cliffhanger and the possibility that one of the Brees might still die yet. Bree1 or Bree2? Maybe neither. Also, can you guess which Bree is the original?**

**Review Please!**


	45. Year 4: Who's who?

**So let's review, Bree kidnapped Percy to go on a trip with the Doctor. Solar Storm hit's the TARDIS and it lands on an island that has a monastery that's been converted into a factory that mines acid and pumps it to the mainland. The acid was so dangerous that the factory was losing a worker a week so they started using a self-replicating organic fluid called the Flesh to create disposable bodies they called "Gangers." **

**The factory workers didn't realize that the Flesh was starting to become sentient and a second wave from the Solar Storm that caused the Gangers to gain full sentience along with all of the originals memories.** **The Doctor tries to get the Gangers and the humans to work together. He almost succeeds but Cleaves shows up and kills one of the Gangers, the other gangers flee. All of the humans, except Rory who hears human Jennifer scream and goes to help her, take refuge in the chapel. Once there they find a ganger Doctor and a ganger Bree. **

**The Gangers try to force their way into the chapel and Bree tries to use a spell to seal the door. The spell is severely weakened by some ancient wards from around the time the monastery was built. The factory workers Bree, Amy, Percy, the Doctor, Ganger Doctor, and Ganger Bree flee the chapel and go to the evac tower. At some point everyone loses track of which Bree is the original, neither Bree reveals this information so for now they are know as Bree1 and Bree2. Rory and Jennifer are located via security camera and Ganger Doctor, Buzzer, and Bree1 go out to get them. Bree2 stays in the evac tower. Cleaves discovers that Rory and Jennifer have shut off the cooling system for the acid. Then there's an explosion, and that's where the last chapter left off.**

* * *

"Gangers or no gangers, we need to get the hell out of here." Dicken declared after the building stopped shaking.

"Always nice to have someone point out the obvious." Bree2 muttered.

"Be nice." Percy hissed.

"Shuttle! We need evac. Where are you? Can you hear me? Can you...?" Cleaves stopped yelling into the mike and winced in pain, puts a hand to her forehead_._"Cleaves? Cleaves, sit down." the Doctor said, concerned, as he helped Cleaves sit."I'm fine. I'm waiting for results, so let it go." Cleaves stated."It's a very deep parietal clot." the Doctor informed her."Inoperable?" Cleaves inquired.

"On Earth, yes." the Doctor replied. "Well, seeing as Earth is all that's on…" Cleaves cut herself off. "Offer?" The Doctor nodded. "...hmm. I'm no healthy spring chicken, and you're no weatherman. Right?" Cleaves said.

There was another explosion that shook the room.

"Something just cracked. I heard it!" Amy exclaimed.

"Yeah, we can't stay here, let's go." the Doctor said.

"Let's shift!" Jimmy shouted.

"Cleaves to Shuttle. We need to move, and we can't be collected from the evac tower." Cleaves said into the mike.

"Give us the codeword." the man on the radio said.

"The codeword is…" But Cleaves was cut off by another explosion that rocked the building and threw everyone to the floor while the console went up in sparks. Cleaves rushed back and tried to give the codeword.

"Cleaves? Cleaves, it's dead, it's dead." the Doctor grabbed Cleaves and pulled her away from the console. "We need to get out of here. We need to get back downstairs and get those vents back on, come on." the Doctor led Cleaves out of the room.

* * *

Bree1 was outside following Buzzer and Ganger Doctor who scanning with the sonic_. _

"I'm getting something." Ganger Doctor.

"Is it human?" Buzzer asked.

"Yeah, it's human, but it's fading. It's fading. This is bad. Fading is very..." Ganger Doctor trailed off when he saw Jennifer lying on the ground. He kneeled down.

"Aagh! The signal's gone." He touched Jennifer. "She's...dead. She was hanging onto the edge of life and she just... just slipped away. Oh, Jennifer, I'm so sorry. She's been out here for hours."

"But if the real Jen's been lying out here…" Buzzer trailed off.

"Rory's in trouble." the Doctor stated.

Buzzer hit Ganger Doctor on the back of the head with a torch and knocked him unconscious."Sorry, pal, it's boss's orders. Us and them, innit?" Buzzer said. He turned around and looked at Bree1.

"So are you the real one or not?" he asked. Bree1 backed away.

"Doesn't matter. Either way I'm not going with you." Bree1 hissed.

"Look, if you're the real one I can't just leave you out here with them." Buzzer said.

"GO AWAY!" Bree1 shouted. "I'm not going with you, you bastard. NOW GO!" she yelled.

Buzzer left somewhat reluctantly, if Bree1 was the real one then he'd be leaving a kid out here alone, but Bree1 couldn't be reasoned with and he was wasting time. Once he was finally gone Bree1 went over to the Ganger Doctor and waited for him to wake up.

A little while later Bree1 heard Buzzer scream in the distance.

"He's dead isn't he?" Bree1 asked the still unconscious Ganger Doctor.

* * *

When they got to the thermostatic chamber the Doctor and Cleaves immediately get to work to change the settings and cool the acid.

"It's a chemical chain reaction now. I can't stop it. This place is going to blow sky high." the Doctor stated.

"Exactly how long have we got?" Cleaves asked.

"An hour? Five seconds? Er, somewhere in between." the Doctor ansered. Something burst and an alarm sounded while the controls began to hiss and spark.

"Out!" the Doctor all ran from the the first to exit the room and headed down the tunnel. Rory was coming from the opposite direction.

"All right?" he asked.

"Oh, Rory! Oh, Rory." Amy exclaimed then hugged him.

"There's a way out. Jennifer found it. A secret tunnel under the crypt." Rory told everyone.

"From the crypt? It's not on the schematics." Cleaves stated.

"It runs right out of the monastery. Maybe even under the TARDIS, Doctor. Follow me." Rory instructed, leading the way down the tunnel. Everyone followed. The Doctor hesitated and Bree2 paused and looked back at him, waiting. After a moment the Doctor moved forward, Bree2 following.

* * *

Bree1 was kneeling next to Ganger Doctor. She was clutching the sonic screwdriver that Ganger Doctor had dropped when Buzzer hit him. The Ganger versions of Cleaves, Jimmy and Dicken were coming toward them. Bree1 stood up and put herself between them and the Ganger Doctor.

"Easy now, we're not going to hurt you." Ganger Jimmy stated in a placating tone.

"I think Jennifer would disagree." Bree1 snarled, nodding toward the young woman's corpse.

"We didn't kill her." Ganger Dicken said.

"Didn't save her either." Bree1 retorted coolly.

"She's human. Humans will always use us, abandon us, throw us away." Ganger Cleaves replied.

Ganger Doctor began waking up

"Got anything for a sore head?" he asked.

This is how they'll always treat us. Do you see now? After all, you're one of us...Doctor." Ganger Cleaves stated. Bree1 gave Ganger Doctor the sonic put the sonic inside his jacket pocket. "Call me Smith. John Smith." he said.

"See, he get's it." Ganger Cleaves told Bree1. Bree1 sighed.

* * *

Rory had led them to a room with a vat of acid in the center. Once everyone was in the room, Rory stood in the doorway looking down from the top of a fight of stairs.

"We can't leave without Buzzer." Jimmy protested.

"I'll go back for him." Cleaves stated.

"Doctor, look...I'd better tell you, I haven't been quite straight with you…" Rory trailed off. gangerJennifer, though nobody presents knew she was a ganger so for now we'll just call her Jennifer, reached out in front of Rory, closed the door and locked the others in.

"Rory!" the Doctor shouted.

"C'mon, Jennifer, we don't need to lock them up. We should just show them what we've found." Rory told Jennifer.

"I don't think so." Jennifer replied.

"Rory Pond, Roranicus Pondicus!" the Doctor yelled, pounding on the small round window in the door.

"Rory! What the hell are you playing at?" Amy shouted.

"They've been throwing away old Flesh and leaving it to rot, alive! I think the world should see that." Rory said.

"Rory, there is no time. This factory's about to explode!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Are you sure about this? Cos I'm not. Let them out." Rory said to Jennifer.

"The little girl got strong." Jennifer stated.

"What?" Rory asked in surprise.

"The little girl lost on the moors in her red wellies? Looking for a way home? Well, she got strong, Rory. I told you, remember?" Jennifer asked.

"But that wasn't...it was the other Jennifer that told me about being a little girl." Rory said.

"Oh? What other Jennifer?" the now revealed Ganger Jennifer inquired, her eyes glowing for just a moment.

"Well, the... The…" Rory didn't seem to be able to form words. "Wait, you tricked me? Let me go, I'll open the door.""Let me…" Ganger Jennifer began dragging him away. "I'm sorry!" Rory yelled to Amy

The Doctor took readings of the acid with the sonic screwdriver. Bree2 blinked. When had he gotten two of those? She couldn't remember.

"This is going to overheat and fill the room with acid, just as a point of interest." the Doctor told everyone."And we can't stop it?" Cleaves asked."Just as a point of interest, no." the Doctor replied.

"I'm not going to die here." Bree2 stated.

"No, of course you're not. We'll get out of here." the Doctor assured her. Bree2 looked at him oddly.

"I know that. I was just stating a fact." Bree2 line line

* * *

It was morning, sunlight was coming into the dining hall. The Gangers and Bree1 were all in the room. Rory was yelling at Ganger Jennifer.

"You created another ganger just to trick me. You tricked me. When I found you, you were both Flesh and you tricked me into trusting you! Jen's dead, isn't she?" Rory shouted.

"Yes. So is Buzzer, I'm pretty sure. At least I heard him scream." Bree1 stated from her spot on the table next to Ganger Doctor.

"Shuttle, we're dropping down on our approach. Stand by for evac." said the man on the radio

"The humans will be melted, as they deserve. And then the factory will be destroyed. Once we get to the mainland, the real battle begins. The humans won't stand a chance. You're both one of us, Doctor, Bree. Join the revolution." Jennifer said with a smile.

"I've got to go and get them out." Rory said, heading for the door. Ganger Doctor stood up and pushed him back and stood by Ganger Jennifer. Rory looked betrayed. Bree1 frowned, but didn't move.

Line line line

Back in the acid room Dicken was lowering the cap over the vat_._"It'll never hold her." Jimmy stated.

"If you have a better plan, I'm all ears. In fact, if you have a better plan, I'll take you to a planet where EVERYONE is all ears." the Doctor repied. The lid slammed shut.

Percy was by the door, trying to open it with Alohomora.

"That didn't work the last fifteen times you tried it, why would it work now?" Bree2 asked.

"You want me to give up?" Percy asked.

"No, it's just, the ward seem stronger down here." Bree2 replied.

Percy cursed under his breath, really a first for him, he was making progress, or, you know, breaking. "Of course. We're closer to the foundation. The wards must be anchored to it so they're stronger." he explained.

"Great, so we've gone from "Barely able to use magic." to "Not able to use magic at all." Wow, this sucks." Bree2 stated.

* * *

In the dining hall Rory was trying to reason with Ganger Doctor."Doctor, we can't just let them die." he said.

Ganger Doctor looked at his watch.

"Ring Ring!" he said.

"Doctor!" Rory exclaimed, walking forward.

"Ring Ring!" the Doctor said again, pushing Rory back.

* * *

In the acid room Cleaves is watching the vat. "The acid's eating through." she said. The building shook and the Doctor pulled Cleaves back just as a blast of steam came out.

* * *

In the dining hall Rorytried to take advantage of the quake and get past the Gangers."Stay!" Ganger Doctor commanded, pointing at him.

Rory stopped and put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "OK." he said.

The phone rang."Ah, that'll be the phone. Somebody get the phone. Jimmy, get the phone. No? Fine, I'll get the phone. Stay put." Ganger Doctor said.

Ganger Doctor picked up the phone and used the sonic. A hologram of a young boy 1 hopped off the table. "I forgot that people came that big." she muttered.

"What you've never seen a kid before?" Rory asked her.

"Youngest I see daily is eleven." Bree1 replied.

"Ha! Hello, Adam, I'm the Doctor. Well, Other Doctor. Or Smith. It's complicated and boring." Ganger Doctor said. Ganger Jimmy stood slowly. "Anyway, who cares, it's your birthday!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Yay!" Adam cheered.

"Yay! Now, have you been getting up very early and jumping on the bed?" Ganger Doctor asked.

"Yes, really high." Adam replied.

"I expect chocolate for breakfast. If you don't feel sick by mid-morning, you're not doing it right. Now, I think you want to speak to Dad." Ganger Doctor said, turning to Ganger Jimmy.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Daddy?" Adam replied. Ganger Doctor walked over to Ganger Jimmy.

"You'll do, Jimmy. What does the other Jimmy matter now? You're both the same dad, aren't you? Come on, Adam's waiting." he said.

"Daddy?" Adam inquired. The building shook. "Daddy, what's that rumbly noise? What's going on, Daddy? Daddy?" Ganger Jimmy fled the room.

"You've tricked him into an act of weakness, Doctor." Ganger Jennifer said.

"No, I've helped him into an act of humanity. Anyone else like the sound of that? Act of humanity." Ganger Doctor said.

"Dicken, drain the acid well in crypt one." Ganger Cleaves ordered.

Ganger Dicken left. "Don't you dare!" Ganger Jennifer shouted.

"I've had it with this! What's the point in this ridiculous war? Look at you, Jen. You were a sweet kid. Look at you now. Stuff of nightmares. I don't want my world populated by monsters." Ganger Cleaves told ganger Jennifer.

"You can't stop the factory from melting down, "boss". I'll take revenge on humanity with or without you." Ganger Jennifer said, like a child who wasn't getting their way."It doesn't have to be about revenge. It can be so much better than that." Ganger Doctor told her.

She stormed out of the room.

* * *

Jimmy was struggling to keep the lid on the vat as acid bubbled beneath it. Bree2 was on the stairs, looking anywhere but at Jimmy. Ganger Jimmy and Ganger Dicken were running through the halls to the acid room. Ganger Jimmy got to the door typed in the code to unlock it and opened escaped the vat and splashed on Jimmy's chest. He screamed and fell backwards onto the floor just as Ganger Jimmy ran in.

"Let me through!" Ganger Jimmy yelled. He went over to where Jimmy was on the floor, knelt down, and held up Jimmy's head.

"There's nothing we can do. The acid's reached his heart." the Doctor stated.

"Time travelers." Bree2 said.

"What?" Cleaves asked.

"Jimmy asked us who we were. I finally answered. Time travelers." Bree replied.

"Oh, okay." Jimmy said weakly.

"Hang in there, mate." Ganger Jimmy

"I'm quite handsome from this angle." Jimmy commented.

"I'm...sorry. I'm the fake. Adam deserves his real dad." Ganger Jimmy said.

"Shut up." Jimmy demanded.

"What do you want me to do? Anything, just say." Ganger Jimmy said.

"The way things are, mate... it's up to you now." Jimmy told him. He took the wedding band that he wore around his neck and put it in Ganger Jimmy's hand.

"Be a dad, and remember her." Jimmy said as he breathed his last.

"Jimmy Wicks...you're a dad." the Doctor told Ganger Jimmy, who was now the only Jimmy.

* * *

Bree1, Rory, Ganger Doctor, and Ganger Cleaves were the only ones left in the in the dining room. Adam'shologram was still connected."Daddy? Where's my daddy?" he came in followed by the others. Rory went right to Amy and they hugged and Amy hit him for being stupid. Cleaves went to her ganger. The to Brees reunited and Jimmy approached the hologram of "his" son.

"Jimmy's dead." Bree2 whispered so that Adam wouldn't hear.

"So that's…" Bree1 trailed off.

"The only Jimmy left." Bree2 finished.

"Buzzer's dead too." Bree1 stated.

"Daddy, it's me!" Adam exclaimed when he caught sight of Jimmy.

Jimmy laughed nervously. "Hey, sunshine! What are you up to?" he asked."Opening all my presents." Adam replied."Haha, good lad. You have fun today. And remember, your dad... he loves you very, very much." Jimmy told the little boy."When are you coming home?" Adam inquired."Daddy's coming home today, Adam." the Doctor said from behind Jimmy."Yay!" Adam exclaimed and began jumping around excitedly.

"Now we need to move." the Doctor stated.

* * *

The Doctor led the way as the group ran down a hall. They stopped when they come across a misshapen, elongated Ganger Jennifer."Run. Run. Run!" the Doctor shouted. They went back the way they came as Ganger Jennifer chased after them on all fours. They ran through a narrow hallway and into another roof groaned_._

"Ooh, roof's going to give!" Ganger Doctor shouted.

Both Dicken and his Ganger closed the metal door."We have to stop her. This door doesn't lock." Ganger Dicken exclaimed.

"No, but the far one does." Dicken said before he ran down the hall to the far door. He pulled on it, but it was jammed. Ganger Jennifer was getting closer and dicken ended up pulling part of the handle off. He finally closed the door but stayed on the other side. His scream carried down the hall."Noooo!" Ganger Dicken shouted. He slammed the door shut. Ganger Cleaves and the Doctor helped him.

"Here she comes." Ganger Doctor said. At that moment, the TARDIS fell through the roof."Oh, she does like to make an entrance!" the Doctor exclaimed.

Ganger Doctor opened the door the TARDIS. "Move!" he exclaimed. The Doctor was holding the door to the room shut as Ganger Jennifer bashed against it. "Go, go, go, go!" he shouted. Ganger Dicken, who was now the only Dicken, ran to the TARDIS.

"Get on board! Go!" Ganger Cleaves shouted.

"I'm not leaving." Cleaves stated. Ganger Jennifer banged against the door.

"Go." Ganger Cleaves said.

Cleaves hesitated for a moment then ran to the TARDIS."Now's our chance." Amy said to the Doctor. "I have to stay. Hold this door closed. Give you time to dematerialise." the Doctor said."Oh, don't be crazy. OK, what happens to you?" Amy asked.

"He dies, cause, you know, even if he stops Jennifer this places blows up." Bree1 said.

"Both of you can survive this, OK?" Amy said to the Doctor.

"Or perhaps you think I should stay instead." Ganger Doctor said.

"No, of course not. But look, this man, I've flown with him, you know? And you are amazing and yeah, I misjudged you, but you're not him. I'm sorry." Amy told him.

"Amy, we swapped shoes. I'm the Doctor." Ganger Doctor, who was actually the real Doctor, said.

"And I'm the Flesh." the Doctor, who was actually Ganger Doctor said.

"You can't be." Amy turned to Ganger Doctor. "You're the real him." she said.

"No, I'm not, and I haven't been all along." Ganger Doctor answered.

"What?" Amy asked, confused.

"I'm the original Doctor, Amy. We had to know if we were truly the same. It was important, vital, we learn about The Flesh. And we could only do that through your eyes." the Doctor looked at Ganger Doctor and then hugged him tightly.

"I never thought it possible." she said.

"What?" Ganger Doctor said."You're twice the man I thought you were." Amy replied.

"Push, Amy. But only when she tells you to." Ganger Doctor Jennifer bangs on the door again_._

"Amy, time to go." Bree1 stated.

Amy ran to the TARDIS.

"Goodbye, Doctor, Cleaves. Good luck." Bree1 said before running to the TARDIS.

"Well, my death arrives, I suppose." Ganger Doctor said.

"But this one, we're not invited to." the Doctor stated.

"Pardon?" Ganger Doctor asked.

"Nothing. Your molecular memory can survive this, you know. It may not be the end." the Doctor said.

"If I turn up to nick all your biscuits, you'll know you were right." Ganger Doctor replied. The Doctor chuckled. He became more serious and exchanged a nod with his ganger.

"Doctor! No, please…" Amy protested. Rory guided her back to the TARDIS.

"You too, Cleaves, off you pop." Ganger Doctor said.

"I'm staying." Ganger Cleaves replied.

"This is not the time for grand gestures." Ganger Doctor told her.

"Says the king of grand gestures! This is my factory! I'm not going anywhere." Ganger Cleaves said.

"Foreman Miranda Cleaves, marvelous!" Ganger Doctor exclaimed and kissed her forehead. "Beware of imitations."

"Clear off out of here, the lot of you!" Ganger Cleaves yelled. The Doctor, Amy, and Rory ran to the TARDIS. Ganger Doctor held up the sonic screwdriver. "This will dissolve her." he stated. "And us too." Ganger Cleaves replied.

The TARDIS dematerialized.

"There may be a way back from this." Ganger Doctor said, tossing the sonic hand-to-hand.

"From being vaporized? How?" Ganger Cleaves asked. "Don't know. Let's find out, eh?" Ganger Doctor opened the door. They each held the sonic. "Geronimo!" Ganger Doctor exclaimed.

They activated the sonic. Ganger Jennifer bursts and Ganger Doctor and Ganger Cleaves "melt".

* * *

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor was leaning against the console. Amy comes over and wraps her hands around his arm."Oh, um. The energy from the TARDIS will stabilize the gangers for good. They're people now." the Doctor said.

"And what happens to me? I still have this." Cleaves pointed to her head.

"Ah, that's not a problem." the Doctor replied, snapping his fingers_._

"I have something for that. It's small and red and tastes like burnt onions, ha!" he pulled a vial out from under the console.

"But it'll get rid of your blood clot." He tossed the vial to Cleaves and grabbed a red balloon. "Happy endings."

* * *

Somewhere one the English coast, Adam is standing on the shore bundled in a winter coat. A red balloon drifted by."Hey! Hello, bud." Jimmy exclaimed, he was holding two red ran to his father."Daddy, you're back!" he exclaimed.

Jimmy picked Adam up and spun him around_._

"Hello, my boy! How are you doing?" Jimmy asked.

* * *

The Tardis was now outside the Morpeth-Jetson Doctor, Cleaves and Dicken walked slowly towards the main door followed by Amy and Rory.

"You really want us to do this?" Cleaves asked.

"Your company's telling the world that the situation is over. You need to get in there and tell them that the situation's only just begun. Make them understand what they're doing to the Flesh. Make them stop. Dicken, remember, people are good. In their bones, truly good. Don't hate them, will you?" the Doctor said.

"How can I hate them? I'm one of them now." Dicken responded.

"Yeah, and just remember, people died. Don't let that be in vain. Make what you say in that room count." the Doctor told them.

"Ready?" Cleaves walked to the door. "Side by side.""You got it, boss." Dicken opened the door and the sound of the press conference happening inside spilled door closed behind them.

Back inside that TARDIS.

"What are we going to do about them?" Percy asked. Indicating the two Brees. "They can't both go to Hogwarts."

"He's right. We'd have a hard time explaining this to to the Professors, and our friends, the Ministry, Mon and Dad." Bree2 stated.

"Yeah, and after all the stunts you've pulled I bet they wouldn't even allow us to both go the Hogwarts." Bree1 said.

"So what to we do?" Bree2 asked.

"Well, America has an Institute." Bree1 said.

* * *

In America.

"Okay, so Alice Smith has been registered at The American Institute of Magic, where you'll live for nine months of the year." the Doctor told Bree1, now know as Alice. "For the other three you'll be in foster care."

"Great, so I guess this is goodbye." Alice said to Bree.

"Won't be forever. We'll meet again. Keep in touch." Bree said.

"You know it." Alice replied. They hugged, then Alice turned to the Doctor.

"Thank you for everything Doctor. If it weren't for you I wouldn't even exist. So thanks." Alice hugged the Doctor. The Doctor and Bree went back into the TARDIS. Alice waved as it dematerialized. "Poor Amy." she mumbled.

* * *

Inside Percy's bedroom, only a few moments after he was originally abducted, the TARDIS rematerialized.

"See Percy it's like you never left." Bree stated as she exited the TARDIS.

"Yeah." Percy replied. Bree wrote the letter to herself, and Percy sent it along with his.

"Now remember Percy, for me this doesn't happen until _after_ the third task. If you try to talk to me about it before that I will have no idea what you're talking about." Bree reminded him as she went back into the TARDIS.

The TARDIS dematerialized.

Inside the TARDIS, Bree turned to Amy.

"Remember to breathe Amy, come on, breathe." Bree told the red head. "Why?" Amy asked."Breathe." the Doctor said.

Amy doubled over and gasped. "Ohh! Whoa. Oh!" she exclaimed."What's wrong with her?" Rory asked.

"Contractions." the Doctor answered."Contractions?" Rory questioned."She's going into labor." the Doctor replied.

Rory hugged Amy. "Did he say...? No, of course he didn't. Rory, I don't like this. Ow!" Amy grabs her stomach and doubled over.

"You'll have to start explaining this to me, Doctor." Rory requested.

"What, the birds and the bees? She's having a baby. I needed to see the Flesh in its early days. That's why I scanned it. That's why we were there in the first place. I was going to drop you off for fish and chips first, but things happened and there was stuff and shenanigans. Beautiful word, shenanigans." the Doctor said.

"Stay on track, Doctor." Bree reprimanded.

"It hurts!" Amy exclaimed.

"It'll be OK." Rory assured her.

"Breathe. I needed enough information to block the signal to the Flesh." the Doctor explained.

"What signal?" Amy asked."The signal to you." the Doctor answered."Doctor?" Amy questioned.

"Stand away from her, Rory." the Doctor ordered.

"Why? No! And why?" Rory shouted.

"Given what we've learned, I'll be as humane as I can, but I need to do this and you need to stand away!" the Doctor voice rose until he was looked at Amy who shook her head. Rory looked back at the Doctor and then slowly backed away from turns her gaze from Rory to the Doctor.

"Doctor, I am frightened. I'm properly, properly scared." she said, near tears.

"Don't be Amy." Bree said walking towards her. She grabbed Amy's hand. "Hold on. Rory and the Doctor are coming for you, I promise. Whatever happens, however hard, however far, they will find you."

"I'm right here!" Amy protested, squeezing Bree's hand. Bree let go and backed away.

"No, you're not. You haven't been here for a long, long time." the Doctor said holding up the sonic screwdriver. Rory gasped.

"Oh, no." Amy said

The Doctor activated the sonic and AMY melted into Flesh.

"I can't help you with this, Doctor." Bree stated, tears in her eyes. "The monastery was hard enough, but this… this is… this is…" The Doctor hugged her.

"I know, Bree, I know." he said softly. He let he go and put a hand on her shoulder then cupped her cheek.

"Look at you, so young. You're not ready for this, you have a lot of growing up to do. But you're going to have to grow up fast. Dark times are ahead of you." he told her.

"And you as well Doctor." Bree replied. She turned to Rory. "I'm sorry Rory. I'm so sorry." she said

* * *

The Doctor dropped Bree off in her dorm. She kicked off her boots and went to sleep as soon as the TARDIS dematerialized. She wouldn't see the Doctor again for a long time, and when she did he would have no idea who she was.

* * *

**So, in case you missed it, Bree2 was the real Bree and Bree1 now goes by Alice. Alice won't really be around much, at least not until Bree is older. Next Chapter returns to the normal Harry Potter story line, well normal for this fic anyway.**

**Review Please!**


	46. Year 4: Sleep for the sleepless

**I got a fanart! Link is http:/ kate33. /art/ Bree-Smith-BreeNC-fan-art-278164781 (remove spaces) there's also a link on my profile. It's a picture of Bree! Yay!**

* * *

Bree woke up with a start, she hadn't slept well. Her mind kept replaying the deaths she had witnessed, over and over again. It was still early but Bree didn't bother trying to go back to sleep. She got up and got ready for the day.

Hours later, Bree was asleep on one of the couches in the common room. Bree's cat, Muffin, was nuzzling her chest.

"I wish I was a cat." Dean told Seamus after the two had come down from their dorm on the way to breakfast. Seamus nodded in agreement. Neither one noticed the Weasley twins behind them.

"Oh, why is that?" George asked. Dean and Seamus paled instantly and turned around slowly. The looks on the looks on the twins faces was positively frightening.

"Um… because… um-er… cats can do whatever they want and um… sleep all day?" Dean stuttered out while mentally chanting "_Pleasedon'tkillme! Pleasedon'tkillme! Pleasedon'tkillme!_" Seamus nodded in agreement.

George walked past them both toward where Bree was sleeping and Dean and Seamus took that as their cue to flee as Fred glared after them.

"Bree, wake up." George said, gently shaking the girl awake.

"Huh?" Bree questioned groggily. She sat up, forcing Muffin to jump off her chest and hide under the couch.

"Why are you sleeping out here?" Fred asked

"Couldn't sleep so I came down here. I must of dozed off." Bree answered.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" George inquired.

"Nightmares." Bree stated flatly. George winced, wishing he hadn't asked because he thought he knew why Bree would be having nightmares. He was wrong of course, but he only knew about the third task, Bree hadn't told anyone about her adventures in time.

Since the champions were exempt for exams Bree didn't bother going to class during the few days that remained of the school year. She mostly napped and wrote letters to Percy who was quite glad to receive her letters because he had been starting to think that he had lost his mind. Uncle Vince sent a letter saying that he needed to meet with her over the summer and he was arranging it with her parents. She wrote back and told him that she knew someone who worked in the ministry and had recently had their beliefs shaken. Vince wanted to meet this person so Bree said she'd arrange it.

The afternoon of the day of the end of term feast, the twins found Bree napping by the lake. They woke her up.

"Come on Bree, the feast is going to start in a soon, you don't want to miss that." said George. Bree rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"Carry me." she mumbled. George sighed in exasperation, but ended up carrying Bree to the Great Hall on his back. Bree rested her head on his shoulder.

"Hey, you're not falling asleep back there are you?" George asked.

"No. I'm just a little tired." Bree stated.

"Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey, she'll probably have something that will help you sleep." Fred suggested.

"I'll think about it." Bree replied.

The trip to the Great Hall continued in comfortable silence broken only by the whispers of other students. The hot topic around the halls was mostly speculation about what had happened at the end of the third task and about how subdued Bree had become since then. She hadn't made any effort toward causing any sort of chaos and the lull was starting to freak people out, either something unspeakably horrible had happened or Bree was planning something and was trying to deceive everyone.

"We're here." George announced. There was no response. "She's asleep again, isn't she?" he asked Fred. Bree made an unintelligible noise and slid off of George's back before stumbling over to a table. It was the Hufflepuff table. Cedric steered Bree back toward the Gryffindor table with a worried and slightly guilty look on his face. Bree slept through most of Dumbledore's speech, she vaguely recalled it going blah blah blah Voldemort something blah Unity blah blah something something dark and dangerous times, then Bree ate dinner before being dragged to the hospital wing by the twins and Madam Pomfrey gave her some mild sleeping potions. It didn't help and the next day Bree found herself on the train home with no memory of how she got there and a pocket full of stronger sleeping potions.

What brought her to full awareness on the train was the sound of Draco shouting.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. "Too late now Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first!"

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Bree blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all lying unconscious in the doorway of a compartment. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their feet, all three of them having used a different hex. Fred and George had their wands out as well.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment. George was careful to tread on Malfoy as he followed Fred inside.

"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me." said Harry.

"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled, and pushed the unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle - each of whom looked distinctly the worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit - out into the corridor, then came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

They were halfway through their fifth game when Harry decided to ask them.

"You going to tell us, then?" he said to George. "Who you were blackmailing?"

"Oh," said George darkly. "That."

"It doesn't matter," said Fred, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important.

Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging.

But Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept on asking, and finally, Fred said, "All right, all right, if you really want to know… it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman?" said Harry sharply. "Are you saying he was involved in -"

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?" said Ron.

Fred hesitated, then said, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah," said Harry and Ron slowly.

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So," said Fred impatiently, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"But - it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione.

George laughed very bitterly.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering.

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!" said Ron.

"Tell me about it," said George. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" said Harry.

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" said Harry. "Well - I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope," said George, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again. Bree fell asleep.

"I'm really worried about her." Hermione commented. "I heard her crying a couple of times at night."

"She told us she'd been having nightmares." Fred stated.

"What about you Harry? Have you been having problems sleeping?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not really, but then again I didn't get Crucio'd." he answered.

"I wish there was more we could do for her, but she doesn't want to talk about it and I feel guilty for asking. She get's this look in her eyes, like she's remembering something horrible." George said.

"I can hear you talking about me." Bree stated without opening her eyes.

"Bloody hell, how long have you been awake!" Ron exclaimed.

"I sort of fade in and out, what with the explosions and all." Bree answered, still not opening her eyes.

"You know, it might help to talk about it." Hermione suggested. Bree finally opened her eyes and glared and the bushy haired girl.

"No." she said flatly.

"But'" Hermione began.

"No." Bree said again with more force. She turned toward the window and closed her eyes, ending the conversation.

Soon, the Hogwarts Express was pulling in at platform nine and three-quarters. The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione struggled out past Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, carrying their trunks. Harry, however, stayed put.

"Fred - George - wait a moment."

The twins turned. Harry pulled open his trunk and drew out his Triwizard winnings, Bree had done the same and tossed the sack of money to Fred while Harry handed his off to George.

"Take it," he said.

"What?" said Fred, looking flabbergasted.

"Take it," Harry repeated firmly. "I don't want it."

"You're mental," said George, trying to push it back at Harry.

"No, I'm not," said Harry. "You take it, and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."

"He is mental," Fred said in an almost awed voice.

"Listen," said Harry firmly. "If you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."

"There's got to hundreds of Galleons in here." George stated weakly.

"Three hundred and thirty-three." Bree corrected. "They spilt the prize money into thirds. With both of those you now have a grand total of six hundred and sixty-six. Think of it as an investment. I fully expect a return." she stated, grinning. "

"Just don't tell your mum where you got it… although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it…" Harry added.

"But-" Fred began, but Harry pulled out his wand.

"Look," he said flatly, "take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."

Both Bree and Harry left without another word stepping over Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were still lying on the floor, covered in hex marks.

Sirius and Remus were waiting on the other side of the barrier next to Mrs. Weasley and… Uncle Vince? Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a hug and then shocked the hell out of Bree by turning and giving her one as well.

"See you. Harry," said Ron, clapping Harry on the back.

"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Harry, Bree - thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

Bree waved as she left the station with Uncle Vince.

* * *

"So how come you're picking me up?" Bree asked Vince as they rode in the back of a Jaguar XJ6 with thicker-than-normal-and-heavily-tinted windows. Ben was driving.

"I just told them that we have some things to discuss before you leave for the summer." Vince answered.

"Ah." Bree replied.

Line Line line

When they arrived at their destination, Vince led Bree to his office. Bree noticed something odd on one of the bookshelves.

"Why do you have a Dalek eyestalk?" Bree inquired.

"It was a gift from one of my off-world business partners. Not sure where he got it though." Vince replied.

Bree grinned. "Always looking to make a profit, no matter how strange the being you have to negotiate with is." she commented.

"Right. Now how to you know about aliens?" Vince asked. Bree told him everything about her adventures with the Doctor, everything she hadn't been able to tell her friends.

"I see." Vince said when Bree was done. "We'll arrange for Alice to come stay will Lisa and I during the summer. And I believe I have a job for Mr. Weasley." Vince told Ben to arrange a meeting with Percy before turning back to Bree.

"Now back to the matter at hand. I have a… gift for you." he said as he pulled a glass jar from a drawer in his desk and handed it to Bree. She took the jar and sat down and examined it. Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle. It had markings around its antennae that looked a bit like glasses. Bree looked back at Uncle Vince, slightly confused.

"Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus." Vince stated. Bree looked back at the jar with a grin that would make a Cheshire cat proud.

"Oh Uncle Vince! You always no just what to get me!" Bree said in a sickly sweet tone. Vince chuckled while Bree took off the lid of the jar and let Skeeter out. Skeeter transformed back into a human. /her clothes were rumpled and her hair was disheveled and unwashed.

"What a handy ability. Let's you spy on anyone you want and get whatever information you need." Bree commented, the grin never leaving her face.

"Imprisoning someone like this is- is" Skeeter began.

"Is- is what?" Bree interrupted mockingly. "It's only illegal if you get caught, and Rita, I'm afraid that no one is looking for you. Maybe they think you're working a story, maybe they're just glad you're gone. Either way I'm you're only hope of getting out of here, so you best do as I say."

"And what if I don't? You can't keep me here forever." Skeeter argued. There was a glint in Bree's eyes, it could almost be mistaken for Dumbledore's infernal twinkle if one didn't look to closely, but Rita did, and from that day forward her dreams would be haunted by a dark grin and malicious blue eyes.

"Rita. You act like you have a choice. The only choice you have is cooperate or die. Pawns are easy to replace, so be a good little pawn or get taken off the board and removed from play, forever, after all, life is one game you can't replay." Bree stated.

Skeeter gulped in fear. "What do you want me to do?" she asked quietly, finally realizing the position she was in.

"Give her a pen and some paper." Bree told Vince. "I'm only going to say this once."

Once Rita had a pen and a writing pad, Bree told Skeeter her demands. "You will not write or publish any stories about me, any member of my family, my friends, or any member of their families. Anything you do write will be completely factual with no twisting of words, quoting anything that wasn't said, or quoting anything anyone who was ever in Slytherin said unless I approve it. And about Dumbledore-"

"I suppose I'm not to write anything about him either?" Rita interjected.

"No." Bree answered. "I want you to write factual articles about him, and well, I suppose we'll have to bend that first rule a bit, because Dumbledore really messed up when it came to Harry and his muggle relatives. I also want you to report on every single one of the ministry's failing, with all the sordid details. Now, pay close attention, I'm going to tell you everything I know about Dumbledore and a muggle family known as the Durslys, and you better not tell anyone I told you this…"

A little while later Skeeter was taken home and Percy was brought in.

"Bree, what's going on?" Percy asked as soon as he saw the blond lounging on a chair in the office of someone who was quite obviously a mob boss.

"Percy, this is my Uncle Vince. He's got an offer for you." Bree stated.

Line line line

* * *

**And that's all for now. In the next chapter Bree will start learning the Animagus transformation. Anyone want to guess what her form will be? There where a few hints in this chapter.**

**Review please!**


	47. Long Summer

**I just realized that I've been working on this story for a little over a year now, so here's to one year of Bree! I drew some stuff in celebration. G****o to my profile for the link.**

**Also, I've recently come to terms with the fact that my hair has changed from blond to light brown. I'm told that the same thing happened to my dad, stupid genetics.**

**One more thing before we get started, I'M GOING TO MY FIRST CON THIS MONTH!** **Yes I'm a geek, but my friends say it's fun.**

* * *

Bree sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. Blue eyes, pale skin from spending nine months in a castle when in the past she would have gotten a tan from spending her days in the sunny California weather, but today, instead of bemoaning the fact that her skin was almost as white as the paper her father's lecture notes were printed on, she was upset about her hair. The uneven blond locks that had gotten slightly darker since her move to England now that they weren't neat constantly exposed to the sun were usually kept at chin length were now hanging halfway down her neck. That only meant one thing. Bree needed a haircut.

Bree wasn't found of haircuts, no matter how careful you were or what precautions you took, little snippets of hair always slid down your shirt and made you itch and the only way to get rid of it was to shower and change your clothes. Bree did just that as soon as her mother was done trimming her hair, now that her hair was at an acceptable length, she was ready for the summer.

* * *

The first destination for the summer was Australia. Bree's paternal Grandfather had the bright idea of camping in the outback for two weeks. Bree and her father would meet him at the beginning of the trip and camp with him for five days, then they would head to America for a family reunion and meet Bree's mother there, who could not get time off for the camping trip. They would get back to England a day or two before Harry's birthday, for which Sirius was throwing a lavish party, and then things would settle down for a while before it was time to go another family reunion, this one for Mr. Smith's half of the family, in mid-August, then it was back to school in September.

* * *

The plane ride to Australia was long and boring and gave Bree time to reflect on the offer that Uncle Vince had given Percy. It was nothing like what Bree had demanded from Skeeter, for one thing Percy hadn't done anything to anger the Smiths and he was a… friend? of Bree's.

The discussion had gone on for awhile. They talked about aliens and the Doctor. They talked about the failings of the Ministry and Dumbledore. Most importantly they talked about what had happened at the graveyard and how Voldemort was back. They talked about how the Ministry was denying what had happen in order to save face, after all, no one wanted the dark times to return. They talked and talked and finally got Percy to agree. Percy was now the first recruit for the Third Option and their spy within the Ministry.

Before Percy left Bree confided in him and told him about the nightmares she was having. Percy told her that he had been having them too.

The plane landed and Bree walked out into thee hot Australian summer.

* * *

Australia was awesome. Even though Bree wasn't fond of camping the Australian landscape and wildlife more than made up for it. On the second day of the trip Bree got up early and left tent that was set up about forty feet from a river. She soon found herself in the company of a ghost, though she didn't realize it at first. At Hogwarts the ghosts had all been pale and transparent, the one in front of her looked like he could be among the living, at least until she tripped and fell through him.

The ghost was a middle aged man with the darkest skin Bree had ever seen. He told her that his name was Marron and then explained how he had died.

"I was fishin' in de river wen de croc come up, but I don't see de croc, not 'till E pulls me inta de river. I fight to come up, but wen I come up I leave my body behind."

Marron could tell that Bree was a witch, mostly because she wouldn't be able to see him if she wasn't, and since she was the first person he was able to interact with in a long time he decided to teach her bush magic.

Bush magic seemed fairly simple in comparison to what Bree had been learning at Hogwarts. It focused on the bare necessities in life: Food, water, shelter, defending yourself, and first aid. Everything you need to keep yourself and your family alive. The magic taught at Hogwarts could be useful (as in defensive spells) but some of it was utterly pointless (as in making a pineapple tap dance or turning a rabbit into a hat, seriously, who came up with those? It's ridiculous. Who's going to use that? No one. It is never used again. Ever. End of story.)

But, oddly enough, most European wizards were unable to learn bush magic. This is because European wizards were taught that magic came from inside of them, that they had a magical core within them that muggles lacked and that if that core was strong then they would be strong. A lot of them thought that the strength of your magical core had everything to do with purity of blood. They were wrong. Everything has "magic" as wizard call it, though it also goes by many other names, depending on where you are. All it really is, is the natural energy of the earth that flows though everything and is tied to the ecosystem. Some beings are more sensitive to this energy then others and act as a conduit for it. Some are capable of storing inside of their bodies and building up a large reserve of energy that they can use when they want to, however most modern wizards didn't have that reserve and so the energy for their spells was pulled from their surroundings. This is why modern wizards are so much weaker than their ancient ancestors. Merlin and the four Hogwarts founders had massive energy reserves. Why do modern wizards lack this you might ask. Two words, Pureblood Ideology. The Pureblood agenda and teachings corrupted the system, not to mention all the inbreeding.

Bree didn't have the inbreeding problem, but the teaching of a Pureblood dominated society needed to be forgotten. This is why Bree was now spending a lot of time getting to know the earth. Using magic to "feel" her surroundings. To do this Bree had to be in a state of semi-meditation. Bree laid down on her back facing the sky. At first all she could feel was the sand digging into her skin. After awhile Bree was finally able to feel the life around her. Grass and trees, nest birds, bugs and lizards, a bug being eaten by a lizard. Bree meditated like this for several hours a day. When she wasn't meditating Marron was teaching her how to find water in the desert.

Before Bree left Marron suggested the she find a living teacher if she wanted to continue learning. A flesh would be able to demonstrate better than a ghost.

* * *

Jet lag sucked, especially with small children running around and making noise. Bree couldn't get a moments rest. The home where the reunion was taking place was huge but with all the people there it was impossible to find a place to be alone. The worst part was that Bree as in charge of watching child. For a long time Bree had been the youngest on either side of her family, that changed a few years ago. The currents youngest was three months and was being passed around like a football among the adults, thank god, Bree didn't have to deal with that diaper changing business as her charges were all potty trained. She was responsible for twin four year olds, a three year old, and a hyperactive thirteen year old who was related to the wife of one of Bree's cousins and was not related to Bree at all who kept insisting that he didn't need a babysitter.

It should be noted that the only regular contact Bree had with children was with the first year students at Hogwarts, and considering that she tended to traumatize them… well let's just say that the way she normally dealt with children would not be accepted here. Between the jet lag and the constant noise made by the children it was really only a matter of time before Bree blew up.

"Fine Wally! You don't need a babysitter, you can BE the babysitter!" Bree shouted and the thirteen year old hyperactive red head (thank god he wasn't actually related to her) as she handed him the three year old who had just wet himself (so much for that potty training) before storming off to find a place in the huge backyard where no one would find her.

She curled up under a willow tree with branches so long that it hid her from view and fell asleep, meanwhile Wally was proving to be a semi-competent caregiver.

Hours later Bree wandered towards the house, it would be quiet there now that the rest of the family had moved to the yard in order to play the tradition family "games" where cheap medals and prizes would be handed out. Bree was on the porch when the door opened and a man Bree didn't recognize came out of the house. He went past Bree, walked to a black Chevy Impala, got in, and drove off. Bree turned back to the house and a weathered looking man with dark blond hair with scar over one of his brown eyes, the right one, leaning on the doorframe.

"Wes? Who was that?" Bree asked. Wes sighed. "That was John." he answered as he went back into the house. Bree followed him.

"John?" she inquired.

"He's from a distant branch of the family. He hasn't come to one of these things since his wife died, but that was before you were born, so it's not surprising that you didn't know him." Wes explained as he walked into the living room. Bree hesitated before following him, she had never liked that room, there wasn't really anything wrong with the room, it was just… a pale old man in a tweed suit, sitting on one end of the couch and watching static on an old time TV set while smoking a cigar that gave off thick smoke that made it hard to breathe. Bree had seen the man in a few of the old black and white photos that hung in the house. The man never smiled, and Bree never asked about him.

Wes sat down at the other end of the couch. He didn't notice the man, or the smoke, or even the TV that sat in front of a flat screen, but then, no one ever did. Bree had learned a long time ago that she was the only one who could see any of it.

"Why was he here today?" Bree asked as the smoke began to sting her eyes.

"He needed information about a job." Wes answered, he looked worriedly at Bree when she started having difficultly breathing. "Are you okay? You're not having some kind of allergic reaction, are you?" he asked.

"No. It's just, this room." Bree wheezed out before descending into a coughing fit. She left the room, Wes followed.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Wes asked as Bree inhaled the Clean air of the dining room.

"I hate that room." Bree muttered. Wes frowned.

"What's wrong with it?" he inquired.

"Nothing really… it's just… never mind, no one ever believes me." Bree responded.

"Come on, why don't you tell me? I've seen a lot of strange stuff in my lifetime so I'm open for anything." Wes said.

Bree sighed at sat down at the table. Wes sat never to her.

"No one ever believes me, they said I had an overactive imagination. But, I'm not imagining things, I know he's real." Bree mumbled.

"Who's real?" Wes pressed.

"The man sitting at the end of the couch." Bree answered.

"What's the man look like?" Wes inquired.

"Like that." Bree stated, pointing to a picture on the wall.

"Has he ever tried to hurt you?" Wes asked.

Bree shook her head. "Mostly he just sits and watches his television while smoking a cigar." she said.

"He has his own TV?" Wes questioned. Bree nodded.

"It's really old and only plays static." she stated.

"And the cigar smoke was affecting earlier?" Wes asked. Bree nodded again.

"You believe me?" Bree inquired.

"Yeah, but I wonder why you're the only one effected, unless it's targeting you, but that doesn't make sense… unless… Have you seen other ghosts before?" Wes said.

"Yes." Bree replied.

"In this house or other places?" Wes asked.

"Other places." Bree mumbled.

"And you were the only one who could see them?" Wes inquired thoughtfully.

"Everyone can see the ones at my school." Bree stated. Wes looked up sharply.

"Everyone?"

Bree nodded. "Everyone."

"And you go to…?"

"Hogwarts School for the Gifted."

"Why didn't I see it before?" Wes muttered. "You're a Magi aren't you?"

Bree blinked. "A what?" she asked incredulously.

"Right, you wouldn't use that term in England. Someone born with the ability to use magic, here we call them Magi." Wes explained.

"Why not witches or wizards?" Bree asked.

"Because that would get you killed. You see here in the states we've got a big problem with people getting power from demon deals. We call those people witches." Wes stated.

"Okay… then I guess I'm a… Magi." Bree said, the word unfamiliar on her tongue. "How do you know so much?"

"I'm a hunter." Wes replied, and Bree ended up getting a crash course on supernatural baddies and explained that the reason ghosts were stronger in America was because of the ancient wards they had back in Europe to prevent spirits from growing too strong. In turn Bree told Wes everything she knew about Voldemort.

* * *

Bree was back at home the day before Harry's birthday. She spent most of her time sleeping off the jet lag. The next day she went to Harry's party at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place with had been mostly de-darkified, and the parts that weren't were off limits. There were parts of the wall that were lighter than the rest where portraits had been removed. There house had been decorated brightly and there was every kind of food imaginable available via an expensive wizarding catering service.

Harry received a small mountain of gifts, most of them were from Sirius who was apparently trying to make up for all the birthdays he'd missed in one go. All of Harry's friends and acquaintances were there (which pretty much meant all of Gryffindor) so it was a lot like one of the parties at Gryffindor tower except with better food and the Weird Sisters playing live. Fred and George had passed their Apparation tests so every once and awhile you'd here a loud crack or two as they showed off.

Bree gave Harry a horseshoe, a four-leaf clover, and a jade frog as gifts.

"More good luck charms?" Harry asked.

"You need it. Desperately." Bree replied.

That evening when the party was winding down and everyone except for the Weasleys, Hermione, and Bree had gone home they all got to talking about what Bree had missed while she'd been traveling.

Grimmauld Place was the new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. The Fidelus Charm that protected the building had temporarily been taken down for the party, much to the displeasure of Mad-Eye Moody, but it would soon be restored. Only the adults were allowed into meetings but Fred and George had invented extendable ears in order to listen in. Some of the Order were following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them. Others were working on recruiting more people to the Order.

Bill had applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order. He was apparently dating Fleur Delacour who had gotten a job at Gringotts to "eempwve 'er Eeenglish."

Charlie was in the Order but he was still working in Romania. Dumbledore

wanted as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie was trying to make contacts on his days off.

"What about Percy?" Bree asked. At Bree's words, all the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry exchanged darkly significant looks.

"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron told Bree in a tense voice.

"Why not?"

"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum starts crying," Fred said.

"It's been awful," said Ginny sadly.

"I think we're well shut of him," said George, with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face.

"What happened?" Bree inquired.

"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred. "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts."

"It was the first week back after term ended," said Ron. "We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."

"Really?" Bree asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, we were all surprised," said George, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain."

"So why'd they promoted him?"

"That's exactly what we wondered," said Ron. "He came home really pleased with himself - even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine that - and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts: Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."

"Only Dad wasn't," said Fred grimly.

"Why not?" Bree asked.

"Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore," said George.

"Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see," said Fred. "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."

"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," said George.

"Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession."

"But what's that got to do with Percy?" asked Harry, confused.

"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family - and Dumbledore."

"Bet Percy loved that." Bree muttered.

Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way.

"He went completely berserk. He said - well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been - you know - not had a lot of money, I mean -"

"What?" Bree said it shock.

"I know," said Ron in a low voice. "And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he - Percy - knew where his loyalty lay. He didn't say anything else after that and he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."

Bree pinched the bridge of her nose. Percy was so going to get it.

"Mum's been in a right state," said Ron dully. "You know - crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he said that Dumbledore is just using us."

"Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously," said Hermione tartly, and the others all nodded.

"What are you talking about?" Bree asked,

"Haven't - haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet?" Hermione questioned.

"I've been overseas." Bree stated flatly.

"The nerve of that Rita Skeeter." Hermione growled. Bree rolled her eyes.

"What's she done now?" she asked.

"Hold on, I'll show you." Hermione went and retrieved some newspapers and gave them to Bree. All of Rita's most recent articles were exactly within the parameters that Bree had set. The articles about Harry's life with the Dursley's and Dumbledore's mishandling of the situation were all factual, Rita had even conducted interviews with neighbors and former teachers. Articles about how the Ministry was sure that Voldemort wasn't back and that anyone who said he was were lying also mentioned the Ministry had been just as sure of Sirius Black's guilt.

"Well?" Hermione asked as soon as Bree was done reading.

"Well what?" Bree replied dryly.

"Aren't you going to make her life hell? Get her to print a retraction?" Hermione demanded.

"There isn't a single thing in here that isn't factual." Bree stated coolly.

"But-but there's no way the Harry's relatives had him sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, right Harry?" Hermione said. Harry ducked his head down and didn't respond.

"Harry it's not true it?" Hermione asked desperately just as the adults walked. "They weren't that cruel, they couldn't have been, they're your family."

"Stop trying to think the best of them, Hermione. Humans can be some of the worst kinds of monsters imaginable if they have enough hate." Bree muttered.

"Harry, it's not true is it?" Hermione pleaded.

"Yeah, it's true." Harry mumbled. He suddenly found himself being engulf in hugs from Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Sirius. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were apologizing for not realizing how bad Harry had had it, Sirius was alternating between apologizing for being in Azkaban and swearing vengeance on the Dursley's, everyone else were in various stages of shock and Bree was holding up a newspaper to hide her grin.

Line line line

It was almost time for Bree to go home so Bree said her goodbyes and wished Harry a happy birthday again. Unfortunately, that got Harry thinking.

"You know, I don't think you've ever told us when your birthday is." he said.

"The third." Bree replied.

"Great that's in a few days. We'll have another party!" Sirius exclaimed, thinking of all the ways he could waste money.

"Sirius, that's not-" Bree was cut off.

"It's the least I could do, you helped catch Pettigrew-" Now Bree cut Sirius off.

"My birthday is the third of _July_ not August." she said.

"Oh." said Sirius. " So how did you celebrate."

"I didn't. I haven't really celebrated by birthday since the time my they had my uncles funeral on my birthday when I turned nine." Bree stated blandly.

"That's horrible!" Sirius exclaimed. "Name anything you want and I'll get it for you! Money is not a problem."

"I want to be an animagus." Bree stated. Sirius got her several books and began teaching her when she came to visit. The first step was meditation in order to find your form. Bree accomplished this quite easily. Bree found out that her animagus form was a long haired silvery blond cat with grey stripes that looked slightly purple and blue eyes. It seemed like a rather normal cat, right up until it grinned.

* * *

Bree arranged a meeting with Percy at Uncle Vince's office, after all she couldn't be seen going to his apartment. Bree arrived a little early and was immediately accosted by Alice. By accosted I of course mean "Flying-tackle-hugged."

"Uncle Vince and Aunt Lisa adopted me!" Alice exclaimed.

"That's great." Bree said. "Now please let me go so I can yell at Percy. We'll hang out later." Alice let Bree go and Bree went to Vince's office. As soon as Percy walked in Bree slapped him.

"What the hell is wrong with you! You could of spied on the Ministry and the Order but no, you had to go fight with your parents!" Bree shouted.

"I don't want my family to end up hurt like Harry was but they wouldn't listen." Percy responded.

"And now they think you're loyal to the Ministry, although now I finally understand why you were in Gryffindor. You have the ability to not think things through, just like the rest of them. You said a lot of hurtful things to your family, so how are we going to fix this." Bree said.

"We aren't." Said a new voice. Bree and Percy both looked at the door where Vince had just walked in.

"Why not?" Bree asked.

"The Ministry will think that he is loyal to them since he has proven that he is not loyal to Dumbledore. This puts him in a better position for gathering information." Vince explained.

Bree sighed. "I suppose that makes sense. If he were to turn around and make up with his family he would lose that." she mumbled.

"I wish there was a way to get them to see how Dumbledore is using them. I've done some research and it turns out that the Order of the Phoenix didn't really do much to counter you-know-who's forces, but the loyalty the Dumbledore got from it's members helped him after you-know-who disappeared." Percy explained.

"Really? I thought the Order managed to capture and kill a lot of Death eaters." Bree stated.

"No that was just Dumbledore taking credit for what we were doing, and our group wanted to remain hidden so it's not like anyone contested his claims." Vince said.

"Are you done yelling at Percy yet? I have something to tell you." Alice said from the doorway.

"More important than being adopted?" Bree asked.

"Way more." Alice answered.

"Yeah I guess were done." Bree replied.

"I found an infinite money glitch!" Alice exclaimed.

"Wha…?" Bree said confused.

"Galleons are solid gold, so they're worth more if you sell them then if you exchange them. Then you exchange the money you got selling the Galleons for more Galleons then sell those you make even more money." Alice explained.

"So it's like buying something cheap, then selling it for a lot more then you paid for it." Bree stated.

Alice nodded. "It's illegal in England because someone else figured it out and made billions all at once, but in America they don't have that law, so if we do it slowly, without anyone noticing, we could make more than that guy who ruined it for the rest of us in England did." she said.

Bree grinned. "I love the way our mind works."

* * *

Bree and Alice were playing Halo with Ben.

"God dammit Alice! Stop sniping the guys I'm trying to shoot!" Bree shouted.

"Maybe you should stop shooting the guys I'm trying to snipe!" Alice yelled back.

"Why do I keep dieing as soon as I spawn in!" Ben complained.

"Probably because Alice keeps shooting you with the rocket launcher." Bree replied.

"I was aiming for the Phantom!" Alice shouted.

"Your aim sucks!" Bree yelled back. This continued for about an hour and then Bree and Alice had an amine marathon, which led to Bree proposing a new idea.

"So you know how you can make rooms and trunks bigger on the inside?" Bree asked,

"Yeah." Alice said.

"So what about making space bigger on the inside?" Bree said.

"What?" Ben exclaimed.

"I mean the girls in anime pull mallets out of nowhere right? So what if there is a space inside space where they keep them until they need them?" Bree said.

"Like a pocket dimension." Alice interjected.

"Right." Bree agreed.

"Hm, an undetectable storage space would come in handy." said Vince. "We should get someone on that."

* * *

Bree was really bored. Seriously bored. Suddenly inspiration struck.

"I completely forgot about tormenting the Dursley's!" she exclaimed. She put on and loose fitting black T-shirt with a red skull on crossbones on the front, ripped up jean shorts, knees high converse sneakers, fingerless leather gloves, sliver skull and crossbones earrings, and a chain bracelet and headed out.

"I'm going for a walk Mom!" she shouted as she walked to the door. Roman wouldn't let Bree leave without him so she put a leash on him and took him with her.

Bree walked all the way to the Dursley's house. Number four Privet Drive stood out from every other house on the street. This was odd because usually every house on Privet Drive looked exactly the same with perfectly manicured yards, but Number four was looking unkempt.

"Huh, that's different." Bree muttered.

"Yes it's disgraceful." one the Dursley's nosey neighbors sniffed. "The Dursley's used to have the best yard on the block, everyone would praise Mrs. Dursley and ask for gardening tips. Well it turned out that was their nephew that was doing all the work. I always knew something was fishy, you never saw Petunia in the yard. As soon the nephew was taken by child services the whole yard went to hell."

"Child services?" Bree questioned.

"Yes! Apparently they had the poor boy sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs! Two men came and took the boy about a year ago. The Dursley's told everyone that the nephew was a delinquent and went to St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, turns out that he actually goes to a school for the gifted and the real delinquent is the Dursley's son!" the neighbor explained.

After speaking to the neighbor, Bree left Privet Drive and headed home, satisfied in the knowledge the Dursley's were suffering. As she approached Magnolia Road she spotted Dudley and his gang.

"… squealed like a pig, didn't he?" one was saying, to guffaws from the others.

"Nice right hook, Big D," said another.

"Same time tomorrow?" said Dudley.

"Round at my place, my parents will be out," said a third.

"See you then," said Dudley.

"Bye, Dud!"

"See ya, Big D!"

"Hey, Big D!" Bree called once Dudley's friends were gone, trying hard not to laugh.

Dudley turned.

"Oh," he grunted. "It's you."

"How long have you been 'Big D' then?" Bree asked with a grin.

"Shut it," snarled Dudley, turning away.

"Wonder what you're friends would do if they found out about the names your mother calls you, what do you think "Diddykins"?" Bree taunted.

"Leave my mother out of it!" Dudley growled.

"Ooo. Did I hit a nerve?" Bree grinned even wider. "I'm surprised, Petunia has a face not even a mother could love, but I guess it's different with sons."

"I said, SHUT IT!" Dudley yelled, his hands had curling into fists. Roman growled and he backed off.

"Wouldn't be so tough without that dog." Dudley muttered.

"That's why I brought him with me." Bree informed him. "I wanted to savor your family's misery, but I wanted to make sure I was safe doing so.""IT'S YOU WHO"S BEHIND THOSE LETTERS!" Dudley shouted.

"What letters?" Bree asked, honestly confused.

"Like you don't know. You freaks keep sending my parents letters telling them that they're horrible people! They sent copies of your freaky newspaper with articles about us!" Dudley exclaimed

"Really? You've been getting letters? I really had no idea that was happening. Really happy that it is though, your family deserves it." Bree's grin got wider.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" Dudley protested. Bree got a crazed gleam in her eye.

"Really Dudley? Nothing at all? Not even locking your cousin in a closet for eleven years? That's not wrong?" Bree was close to yelling.

"He's a freak, he deserved it!" Dudley shouted.

"So if the situation was reversed, if it was your parents who died and you were sent to Harry's parents, a place where you would be the "freak" you're saying that you would deserve to be treated the same way as Harry was treated by your parents?" Bree questioned.

"I… I" Dudley was struggling for words. "I'm not a freak." he finally said.

"You would be at Hogwarts. And really Dudley, if you think about it _everybody_ _in the world _is a freak. What's normal in on culture is strange and unsettling in another, even between England and America there is strangeness. A lift is an elevator, a row is a fight, and what the heck is a lorry anyway? And the world get's so much stranger then that. There's weirdness that you wouldn't believe." Bree had become a bit unhinged, and while she was talking she was walking forward while Dudley was backing up until he hit a wall. Bree leaned forward and began whispering.

"Have you ever wondered Dudley, what if those people on the fringe of society, the ones that believe that aliens exist and have visited earth, have you ever wondered, what if they're right?"

Dudley gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though he had been doused in icy water. Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch black and lightless - the stars, the moon, the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The distant rumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire street, blinding them. Roman began growling.

Dudley's terrified voice broke in Bree's ear.

"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!"

"I'm nowhere near strong enough to do something like this. This is something else entirely." Bree murmured.

The cold was so intense she was shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up her arms and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up - she opened her eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing.

This felt familiar, but it couldn't be, what would they be doing here? Of all the days to leave her wand at home.

"What is it? W-what's going on?" Dudley whimpered.

"Shut up so that I can listen!" Bree hissed.

There was something in the street apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Bree felt a horrible jolt of dread as she stood trembling in the freezing air.

"Dudley, do you have a flashlight or something?" Bree asked.

"Don't you have one of those freaky sticks?" Dudley questioned.

"I'm not allowed to use magic in the summer so I left it at home and brought Roman with me." Bree growled back.

"I have a lighter." Dudley answered.

"Hand it over." Bree ordered. After a bit of fumbling Bree felt the cheap plastic of a gas station lighter slip into her hand. It sparked a couple of times before it light. The dim flame was enough for Bree to see what she knew was already there.

A towering, hooded figure was gliding smoothly towards him, hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came.

"Dementor." Bree hissed, backing up.

"W-what is it? I d-don't see anything." Dudley said.

"Of course you don't. Only people that can use magic can see it. It's a monster. It feeds on happy memories and souls." Bree explained hurriedly. Roman growling louder.

"Souls?" Dudley questioned weakly.

Bree glanced down at Roman, his fur was standing up and he was baring his teeth and looking right where the dementor was. Then Bree remembered something important, something Sirius had told her. Dementors couldn't see, they sought out prey by sensing emotion. They couldn't sense animals very well and animals weren't as effected by them, that was how Sirius had retained his sanity by spending a loot of time in animagus form.

Bree didn't take her eyes off the dementor as she reached down and unhooked the leash.

"Roman" Bree said firmly, pointing at the dementor "bosc."

Roman sprang forward in a flurry of fangs, fur, and claws. The dementor let out a horrible shriek as it was attack by a hundred and twenty seven pounds of German Sheppard. The dementors limbs came off fairly easily, which made sense considering that it appearing to be decomposing.

Moon, stars and streetlamps burst back into life. A warm breeze swept the street. Trees rustled in neighboring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again. The dementor was dead.

"Is it gone?" Dudley asked.

"Yeah, yeah it de- Roman put that arm down you don't know where it's been!" Bree went from answering Dudley to scolding Roman. "Drop it. Drop it. God boy, now leave it." Bree put the leash back on Roman, then turned to Dudley.

"I'm going home now." She told him, handing him his lighter before walking home.

* * *

"Dementors?" Vince asked at the family reunion. He and Bree were sitting apart from the rest of the picnic.

"Just one." Bree replied.

"But still, their supposed to be under ministry control." Vince responded.

"Well either they're aren't anymore or tit was ordered there." Bree stated.

"But why?" Vince said.

"Ministry's not happy with me, you know, the whole Voldemort thing." Bree said.

"We should contact Harry and Cedric, see if they've had the same problem." Vince suggested.

"I was just thinking the same thing." Bree responded. Later it turned out that Cedric and Harry had been subject to similar attacks.

* * *

**Immortal Bubblewrap sent me a very long review and I will now address the questions asked in that review.**

**Q: Did you come up with the thing where 'if you save a wizards life they owe you' thing or is it a cannon thing?**

**A: The life debt concept comes from both canon and fanon. It's mentioned in canon and expanded on in various stories I've read on .**

**Huh, well that's the only big question in that review, the rest of it is mostly praise, support for the Bree x George pairing that seems to have developed without my noticing it, and a guess that Bree's animagus form is a Cheshire cat.**

**To everyone who guess that Bree's animagus form is a Cheshire cat, you were absolutely right. It was going to a normal cat, but that didn't fit Bree's insanity well enough, plus I love the Cheshire cat. I briefly entertained the idea of having her turn into a mermaid just cause I think it would be fun to mess with people that way "Is that a mermaid, no wait it's just a girl in a wetsuit." Also sunken treasure, but I scrapped that idea, and really a Cheshire cat fits Bree's personality better. But I still think it would be totally awesome to transform into a mermaid. (I love swimming.)**

**What else do I have to say… oh um, the word Bree uses to get Roman to attack the Dementor "bosc" is the word that we used for training the real life Roman to attack bad people (he was professionally trained, we got him after someone tried to break into her house). Well actually I just spelled "bosc" how I remember it sounding so I'm not sure if it's right, but I do remember that it was picked so that strangers wouldn't be able to guess it.**

**REVIEW PLEASE! **


	48. Year 5: Arrival

Bree's Dad gave her the usual warnings when he dropped her off at the station. Don't set things on fire, don't do anything that will make your teachers summon us to your school, and, for the love of god, don't do anything that will upset your Aunt Lisa, that woman is terrifying. Okay, so that last one was new, but the rest was pretty basic.

On the train Bree ran into Harry and Ginny.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Bree asked.

"The prefect carriage." Harry answered.

"Damn. Not only is Hermione a stickler for the rules, she now as the authority to back it up." Bree muttered.

"Come on," Ginny said, "we need to find a compartment."

"Right," said Harry, picking up Hedwig's cage in one hand and the handle of his trunk in the other. Bree got her rolling trunk in one hand, Muffin's carrier in the other, and Aries and Apollo were perched on her shoulders. They struggled off down the corridor, peering through the glass-paneled doors into the compartments they passed, which were already full. A lot of people stared back at them with great interest and that several of them nudged their neighbors and pointed them out. After they had met this behavior in five consecutive carriages Bree remembered what had happened in June. People were still talking about it. That and the fact the Daily Prophet had been telling its readers all summer about how horrible Harry's relatives were.

In the very last carriage they met Neville Longbottom his round face shining with the effort of pulling his trunk along and maintaining a one-handed grip on his struggling toad, Trevor.

"Hi, Harry" he panted. "Hi, Ginny… everywhere's full… I can't find a seat…"

"What are you talking about?" said Ginny, who had squeezed past Neville to peer into the compartment behind him. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here —"

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone.

"Don't be silly," said Ginny, laughing, "she's all right."

She slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside. Harry and Neville followed.

"Hi, Luna," said Ginny, "is it okay if we take these seats?"

The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of Butterbeer corks, or that she was reading a magazine upside-down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.

"Thanks," said Ginny, smiling at her.

Harry and Neville stowed the trunks and Hedwig's cage in the luggage rack and sat down.

Luna watched them over her upside-down magazine, which was called The Quibbler. She did not seem to need to blink as much as normal humans. She stared and stared at Harry, who had taken the seat opposite her and now wished he hadn't.

Neville chuckled. Luna turned her pale eyes on him instead.

"And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," said Neville hurriedly.

"No you're not," said Ginny sharply. "Neville Longbottom - Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," said Luna in a singsong voice.

She raised her upside-down magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Harry and Neville looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. Ginny suppressed a giggle.

The train rattled onwards, speeding them out into open country. It was an odd, unsettled sort of day; one moment the carriage was full of sunlight and the next they were passing beneath ominously grey clouds.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" said Neville.

"Another Remembrall?" said Harry, remembering the marble-like device Neville's grandmother had sent him in an effort to improve his abysmal memory.

"No," said Neville. "I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago… no, look at this…"

He dug the hand that was not keeping a firm grip on Trevor into his schoolbag and after a little bit of rummaging pulled out what appeared to be a small grey cactus in a pot, except that it was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," he said proudly.

Harry stared at the thing. It was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ.

"It's really, really rare," said Neville, beaming. "I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My Great Uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."

"Does it - er - do anything?" he asked.

"Loads of stuff!" said Neville proudly. "It's got an amazing defensive mechanism. Here, hold Trevor for me…"

He dumped the toad into Harry's lap and took a quill from his schoolbag. Luna Lovegood's popping eyes appeared over the top of her upside-down magazine again, to watch what Neville was doing. Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up t o his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot, and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.

Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant; thick, stinking, dark green jets of it. They hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna Lovegood's magazine; Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy green hat. Bree had also put her hands in front of her face and her hair and arms were covered in green slime. Harry, whose hands had been busy preventing Trevor's escape, received a faceful.

Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.

"S - sorry," he gasped. "I haven't tried that before… didn't realize it would be quite so… don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful on to the floor. Bree was twitching

At that precise moment the door of their compartment slid open.

"Oh… hello, Harry," said a nervous voice. "Um… bad time?" It was Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory.

"Neville." Bree said flatly. "You have five seconds to run, then I'm going to come kill you." Neville stared blankly.

"Three seconds. Run stupid, run!" Bree shouted, a malicious gleam in her eye. Neville ran out of the compartment and down the hall.

"You're not real going to-" Ginny began to ask. She wasn't able to finish because Bree had ran after Neville while screaming "I'm going to kill you!"

"We had better go after her before she hurts him." said Cedric.

Five minutes later and Cedric and Harry could be found on the floor, each trying to hold on to one of Bree's legs while Ginny and Cho tried to free Neville from Bree, who had managed to grab one of the unfortunate boy's ankles when Cedric and Harry had tackled her and was now gnawing on it as Luna looked on.

"What's going on here?" a new voice asked. It was Fred.

"Bree's trying to kill Neville." Harry shouted.

"We can see that. Why?" George asked.

"And what are you covered in?" Lee added.

"Stinksap. It's the whole reason that she wants to kill Neville." Ginny yelled.

"She's gnawed through my pants! She's gnawed through my pants!" Neville exclaimed. Fred and George grabbed Bree and pulled her off Neville who immediately went to hide behind Ginny. Bree thrashed in the twins grip, George cast scourgify and the Stinksap vanished. Fred drenched Bree with aguamenti. Bree stopped thrashing and shook water out of her hair.

"You done trying to kill Neville?" George asked.

"Yeah." Bree sighed. "And Fred."

"What?" Fred inquired.

"Stop groping me." Bree said. Fred turned red, let go of her, and jumped away. George glared.

* * *

Ron and Hermione did not turn up for nearly an hour, by which time the food trolley had already gone by. Everyone had finished their pumpkin pasties and were busy swapping Chocolate Frog Cards when the compartment door slid open and they walked in, accompanied by Crookshanks and a shrilly hooting Pigwidgeon in his cage.

"I'm starving," said Ron, stowing Pigwidgeon next to Hedwig, grabbing a Chocolate Frog from Harry and throwing himself into the seat next to him. He ripped open the wrapper, bit off the frog's head and leaned back with his eyes closed as though he had had a very exhausting morning.

"Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each house," said Hermione, looking thoroughly disgruntled as she took her seat. "Boy and girl from each."

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" said Ron, still with his eyes closed.

"Malfoy," replied Harry at once, certain his worst fear would be confirmed.

"Course," said Ron bitterly, stuffing the rest of the Frog into his mouth and taking another.

"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione viciously. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll…"

"Who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," said Ron thickly.

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," said Hermione.

"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil," said a vague voice.

Everyone turned to look at Luna Lovegood, who was gazing unblinkingly at Ron over the top of The Quibbler. He swallowed his mouthful of Frog.

"Yeah, I know I did," he said, looking mildly surprised.

"She didn't enjoy it very much," Luna informed him. "She doesn't think you treated her very well, because you wouldn't dance with her. I don't think I'd have minded," she added thoughtfully, "I don't like dancing very much."

She retreated behind The Quibbler again. Ron stared at the cover with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, then looked around at Ginny for some kind of explanation, but Ginny had stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to stop herself giggling. Ron shook his head, bemused, then checked his watch.

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," he told Harry and Neville, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" said Hermione sharply.

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all," said Ron sarcastically.

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"I'll make Goyle do lines, it'll kill him, he hates writing," said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle's low grunt and, screwing up his face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair. "I… must… not… look… like… a… baboon's… backside."

Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna Lovegood. She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. Luna laughed so hard her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs and on to the floor.

"That was funny!"

Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring at Ron. Utterly nonplussed, he looked around at the others, who were now laughing at the expression on Ron's face and at the ludicrously prolonged laughter of Luna Lovegood, who was rocking backwards and forwards, clutching her sides.

"Are you taking the mickey?" said Ron, frowning at her.

"Baboon's… backside!" she choked, holding her ribs.

Everyone else was watching Luna laughing, but Bree glanced at the magazine on the floor, noticed something that made her grab it. Upside-down it had been hard to tell what the picture on the front was, but Bree now realized it was a fairly bad cartoon of Cornelius Fudge. One of Fudge's hands was clenched around a bag of gold; the other hand was throttling a goblin. The cartoon was captioned: How Far Will Fudge Go to Gain Gringotts? Beneath this were listed the titles of other articles inside the magazine.

Corruption in the Quidditch League:

How the Tornados are Taking Control

Secrets of the Ancient Runes Revealed

"Can I have a look at this?" Bree asked Luna.

She nodded, still gazing at Ron, breathless with laughter. Bree opened the magazine and scanned the index. She found the page, and turned to the article.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, denied that he had any plans to take over the running of the Wizarding Bank, Gringotts, when he was elected Minister for Magic five years ago. Fudge has always insisted that he wants nothing more than to 'co-operate peacefully' with the guardians of our gold.

BUT DOES HE?

Sources close to the Minister have recently disclosed that Fudge's dearest ambition is to seize control of the goblin gold supplies and that he will not hesitate to use force if need be.

"It wouldn't be the first time, either," said a Ministry insider. "Cornelius 'Goblin-Crusher' Fudge, that's what his friends call him. If you could hear him when he thinks no one's listening, oh, he's always talking about the goblins he's had done in; he's had them drowned, he's had them dropped off buildings, he's had them poisoned, he's had them cooked in pies…"

Bree flicked through the rest of the magazine. Pausing every few pages, she read: an accusation that the Tutshill Tornados were winning the Quidditch League by a combination of blackmail, illegal broom-tampering and torture; an interview with a wizard who claimed to have flown to the moon on a Cleansweep Six and brought back a bag of moon frogs to prove it; and an article on ancient runes which at least explained why Luna had been reading The Quibbler upside-down. According to the magazine, if you turned the runes on their heads they revealed a spell to make your enemy's ears turn into kumquats

"Anything good in there?" asked George as Bree closed the magazine.

"Of course not," said Hermione scathingly, before Bree could answer. "The Quibbler's rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," said Luna; her voice had suddenly lost its dreamy quality. "My father's the editor."

"I - oh," said Hermione, looking embarrassed. "Well, it's got some interesting… I mean, it's quite…"

"I'll have it back, thank you," said Luna coldly, and leaning forwards she snatched it out of Bree's hands. Riffling through it to page fifty-seven, she turned it resolutely upside-down again and disappeared behind it, just as the compartment door opened for the third time.

Harry looked around; he had expected this, but that did not make the sight of Draco Malfoy smirking at him from between his cronies Crabbe and Goyle any more enjoyable.

"What do you want?" Bree said in a bored tone, before Malfoy could open his mouth.

"Manners, Smith, or I'll have to give you a detention," drawled Malfoy, whose sleek blond hair and pointed chin were just like his fathers. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"And?" Bree asked, still bored.

"I can make your life miserable!" Malfoy exclaimed.

Bree grinned. "And I can make your life hell on earth. You still owe me Malfoy. Never forget that." she said.

Draco backed off.

The weather remained undecided as they traveled further and further north. Rain spattered the windows in a half-hearted way, then the sun put in a feeble appearance before clouds drifted over it once more. When darkness fell and lamps came on inside the carriages, Luna rolled up The Quibbler, put it carefully away in her bag and took to staring at everyone in the compartment instead.

Harry was sitting with his forehead pressed against the train window, trying to get a first distant glimpse of Hogwarts, but it was a moonless night and the rain-streaked window was grimy.

"We'd better change," said Hermione at last, and all of them opened their trunks with difficulty and pulled on their school robes. She and Ron pinned their prefect badges carefully to their chests. Ron checked his reflection in the black window. Bree was wearing the usual Gryffindor uniform.

"What happened to the "Smith Academy" uniform?" Fred asked.

"Who knows, it might make a comeback in the future." Bree stated.

At last, the train began to slow down and they heard the usual racket up and down it as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled, ready to get off. As Ron and Hermione were supposed to supervise all this, they disappeared from the carriage again, leaving Harry and the others to look after Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon.

"I'll carry that owl, if you like, " said Luna to Harry, reaching out for Pigwidgeon as Neville stowed Trevor carefully in an inside pocket.

"Oh - er - thanks, " said Harry, handing her the cage and hoisting Hedwig's more securely into his arms.

They shuffled out of the compartment feeling the first sting of the night air on their faces as they joined the crowd in the corridor. Slowly, they moved towards the doors. The familiar call of "firs'-years over 'ere… firs'-years…" was there as not.

But it did not come. Instead, a quite different voice, a brisk female one, was calling out, "First years line up over here, please! All first-years to me!" A lantern came swinging towards Bree and by its light she saw the prominent chin and severe haircut of Professor Grubbly-Plank, the witch who had taken over Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons for a while the previous year.

Bree got separated from her friends because of the crowd and the darkness. She allowed herself to be shunted forwards on to the dark rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade Station.

Here stood the hundred or so horseless stagecoaches that always took the students above first year up to the castle. Bree glanced quickly at them, turned away to keep a lookout for Fred and George, then did a double-take.

The coaches were no longer horseless. There were creatures standing between the carriage shafts. If she had had to give them a name, she supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither - vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gathering gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister. Bree could not understand why the coaches were being pulled by these horrible horses when they were quite capable of moving along by themselves.

Harry had materialized from the crowd. "Where's Pig?" said Ron's voice, right behind Harry.

"That Luna girl was carrying him," said Harry, turning quickly, eager to consult Ron about Hagrid. "Where d'you reckon -"

"- Hagrid is? I dunno," said Ron, sounding worried. "He'd better be okay…"

A short distance away, Draco Malfoy, followed by a small gang of cronies including Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson, was pushing some timid-looking second-years out of the way so that he and his friends could get a coach to themselves. Seconds later, Hermione emerged panting from the crowd.

"Malfoy was being absolutely foul to a first-year back there. I swear I'm going to report him, he's only had his badge three minutes and he's using it to bully people worse than ever." Hermione stated.

"What a git." Fred said as he and George emerged from the crowd.

"Where's Crookshanks?" Hermione asked.

"Ginny's got him," said Harry. "There she is…"

Ginny had just emerged from the crowd, clutching a squirming Crookshanks.

"Thanks," said Hermione, relieving Ginny of the cat. "Come on, let's get a carriage together before they all fill up…"

"I haven't got Pig yet!" Ron said, but Hermione was already heading off towards the nearest unoccupied coach. Harry remained behind with Ron.

"What are those things?" Bree asked George, nodding at the horrible horses as the other students surged past them.

"What things?"

"Those horse -"

Luna appeared holding Pigwidgeon's cage in her arms; the tiny owl was twittering excitedly as usual.

"Here you are," she said. "He's a sweet little owl, isn't he?"

"Er… yeah… he's all right," said Ron gruffly.

"Well, come on then, let's get in… what were you saying, Bree?" George asked.

"I was saying, what are those horse things?" Bree said, as they made for the carriage in which Hermione and Ginny were already sitting.

"What horse things?"

"The horse things pulling the carriages!" said Bree impatiently. They were, after all, about three feet from the nearest one; it was watching them with empty white eyes. George, however, gave Bree a perplexed look.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about - look!"

Bree grabbed George's arm and wheeled him about so that he was face to face with the winged horse. George stared straight at it for a second, then looked back at Bree.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"At the - there! Harnessed to the coach! It's right there in front"

But as George continued to look bemused, a strange thought occurred to Bree.

"Can't… can't you see them?"

"See what?"

"Can't you see what's pulling the carriages?"

George looked seriously alarmed now.

"Are you feeling all right, Bree?"

"I… yeah…"

Bree felt utterly bewildered. The horse was there in front of her, gleaming solidly in the dim light issuing from the station windows behind them, vapour rising from its nostrils in the chilly night air. Yet, unless George was faking - and it was a very feeble joke if he was - George could not see it at all.

"Shall we get in, then?" said George uncertainly, looking at Bree as though worried about her.

"Yeah," said Bree. "Yeah, go on…"

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice from beside Bree as George vanished into the coach's dark interior.

"You're not going mad or anything. I can see them, too."

"Can you?" said Bree desperately, turning to Luna. She could see the bat-winged horses reflected in her wide silvery eyes.

"Oh, yes," said Luna, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am"

Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after George. Bree followed her.

* * *

Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Harry leaned forwards to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrids cabin.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Bree noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as they passed. She flipped them off.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindors, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry and Bree airy, overly-friendly greetings that made Bree quite sure they had stopped talking about them a split second before. Harry had more important things to worry about, however: he was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

"He's not there."

Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.

"He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course he hasn't," said Harry firmly.

"You don't think he's… hurt, or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily.

"No," said Harry at once.

"But where is he, then?" Fred asked.

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati and Lavender could not hear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know - from his mission - the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore.'

"Yeah… yeah, that'll be it," said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.

"Who's that?" she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

Bree looked up. She first saw Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked like a with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

"Oh my god. Kill it. Kill it with fire." Bree muttered to Fred and George. The twins snickered.

"Must be our new defense teacher." George said.

Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrids. That meant the first-years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first-years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new,

And Hogwarts barely started,

The founders of our noble school,

Thought never to be parted,

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school,

And pass along their learning.

"Together we will build and teach!"

The four good friends decided,

And never did they dream,

That they might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere,

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell,

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those whose

Ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name."

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same."

These differences caused little strife,

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted,

So, for instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with dueling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you…

Let the Sorting now begin.

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

"Too right it has," said Harry.

The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts houses and its own role in Sorting them. Harry could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.

"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her (Neville winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The Hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels –"

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end.

With a last frowning look that swept the four house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

The terrified-looking boy from earlier stumbled forwards and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:

"Gryffindor!"

"I'm going to have so much fun with that one." Bree stated.

"Can't you be nice?" Hermione asked.

"I can, but I'm not going to be." Bree answered.

Gryffindor clapped house as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Ron's stomach was rumbling loudly. Finally, "Zeller, Rose" was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speechmaking, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate - for food had appeared so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"Excellent," said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them on to his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.

"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Hermione asked the ghost. "About the Hat giving warnings?"

"Oh, yes," said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."

"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?" said Ron.

His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.

"I beg your pardon?" said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, "How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?"

"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nick. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."

"And it wants all the houses to be friends?" said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. "Fat chance."

"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nick reprovingly. "Peaceful cooperation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron."

"Only because you're terrified of him," said Ron.

Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.

"Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins -"

"What blood?" asked Ron. "Surely you haven't still got -?"

"Its a figure of speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. "I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"

"Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!" said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron.

Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was

"Node iddum eentup sechew," which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology.

Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.

"Well done, Ron," snapped Hermione.

"What?" said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. "I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?"

"Oh, forget it," said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to lace the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft…

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too."

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawk like, and Bree distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"

And that's about where Bree stopped listening, having come to understand exactly what Umbridge stood for. Tradition= Wizards are superior The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table Cho Chang was chatting animatedly with her friends. A few seats along from Cho, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again.

Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Bree was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest.

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. A full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

"… because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot.'

"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly.

"Was there?" said Ron blankly.

"How about: 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about: 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.

"It means things are going to get bad." Bree muttered.

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!"

"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey - hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are, they're titchy…"

"I know, but you can't call them midgets! - First-years!" Hermione called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"

A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group.

Harry smiled at them. A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie looked petrified; he nudged Euan and whispered something in his ear.

Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Harry. The smile fell off his face. Yeah, Bree was going to have a lot of fun with those two.

* * *

**Review Please!**


	49. Year 5: Pink Toad and Kittens

The next morning Bree woke up and, after threatening to break Lavender Brown for saying that Bree, Cedric and Harry were lying about Voldemort, went down to the common room and was just in tim to hear Hermione say 'Oh for heaven's sake."

She was staring at the common-room notice board, where a large new sign had been put up.

GALLONS OF GALLEONS.

Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? Like to earn a little extra gold? Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs. (We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)

"They are the limit," said Hermione grimly, taking d own the sign, which Fred and George had pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend in October. "We'll have to talk to them, Ron."

Ron looked positively alarmed.

"Why?"

"Because we're prefects!" said Hermione, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. Once they were gone Bree pulled out another sign and pinned it up before heading down to the great hall.

* * *

History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defense Against the Dark Arts. That was Bree's schedule for the day.

"I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted…" Ron stated.

"Do mine ears deceive me?'" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, little bro," said Fred, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."

"Why's it cheap?" said Ron suspiciously.

"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet," said George, helping himself to a kipper.

"Cheers," said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable, "but I think I'll take the lessons."

"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard."

"Says who?" said George, looking astonished.

"Says me," said Hermione. "And Ron."

"Leave me out of it," said Ron hastily.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" asked Hermione.

"Fifth year's OWL year," said George.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," said Fred with satisfaction.

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs," said George happily. "Tears and tantrums… Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint…"

"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" said Fred reminiscently.

"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pajamas," said George.

"Oh yeah," said Fred, grinning. "I'd forgotten… hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said George. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our spirits up somehow."

"Yeah… you got, what was it, three OWLs each?" said Ron.

"Yep," said Fred unconcernedly. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year," said George brightly, "now that we've got-"

He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knew George had been about to mention the Triwizard winnings he had given them.

"- now that we've got our OWLs," George said hastily. "I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat."

Bree winced at the mention of Percy.

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though," said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand."

"But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?" Hermione asked skeptically. "You're going to need all the ingredients and materials - and premises too, I suppose…"

Harry deliberately dropped his fork and dived down to retrieve it. "Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione.C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology." Fred said.

Harry emerged from under the table as Fred and George walked away, each carrying a stack of toast.

"What did that mean?" said Hermione, looking from Harry to Ron to. "'Ask us no questions… ' Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?"

"You know, I've been wondering about that," said Ron, his brow furrowed. "They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons…"

Harry decided it was time to steer the conversation out of these dangerous waters.

"D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron. "Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Bill told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked as they left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and set off towards their History of Magic classroom.

"Not really," said Ron slowly. "Except… well…" He looked slightly sheepish.

"What?" Harry urged him.

'"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror,'" said Ron in an off-hand voice.

"Yeah, it would," said Harry fervently.

"But they're, like, the elite," said Ron. "You've got to be really good. What about you, Hermione?"

"I don't know," she said. "I think I'd like to do something really worthwhile."

"An Auror's worthwhile!" said Harry.

"Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I mean, if I could take SPEW further…"

Harry and Ron carefully avoided looking at each other.

"What about you, Bree?" Ron asked, wanting to get Hermione's mind off of SPEW before she started lectureing.

"Ah well, my Aunt says she has a posistion for me in her company, but Alice had this neat idea and if it works then we wouldn't really have to work 'cause we'd have all the money we wanted, but Aunt Lisa's company is kind of fun." Bree answered.

"Who's Alice?" Hermione asked.

"My cousin. Aunt Lisa and Uncle Vince adopted her over the summer. We get along really well." Bree answered, glad that she didn't have to lie about Alice, well not this time anyway, but so long as no one actually met Alice...

* * *

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Today Bree was absentmindedly doodleing in her notebook, or at least she thought she was. She looked down and realized that she had actually been scrawling the same two words across the pages.

Bree sighed and wondered if she had wrote the words because of a fit of boredom or because the words were echoing through time and space. Probably a bit of both. The words wouldn't have been in her head in the first place if they hadn'y been scattered. Bree wondered if she could use this for divination, probably. In fact there were a lot of things floating in her head that she could turn into a prophecy, and no one would believe her but Trelawney. Bree smirked and went back to writing BAD WOLF in her notebook.

* * *

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him as he walked into the potions classroom.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my… displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time on Neville, who gulped.

After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. "The ingredients and method -" Snape flicked his wand "- are on the blackboard -" (they appeared there) "- you will find everything you need —" he flicked his wand again "- in the store cupboard —" (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) "- you have an hour and a half… start."

Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticize.

At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt Harry.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco Malfoy laughed.

"Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-colored steam now filling the dungeon.

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.'"

His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

"Gonna do the same thing to Goyle's? 'Is is sputterin' purple smoke. 'E must've dun somthin' really wrong." Bree said, her voice sounding odd.

Snape turned to look at her. Her potion was giving off the same silver vapor as Hermione's, but their was still something off with her potion.

"Smith, what do you think you are doing?" Snape demanded.

"Fishin'" Bree replied in the redneck accent she had used before while pointing the the pockect fishing rod that that had it's line in Bree's caldron.

"Detention Smith."

* * *

644. Not allowed to fish out of my caldron during potions.

* * *

"Good-day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice at the begining od Divination. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely - as, of course, I knew you would.

"You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so…"

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each others most recent dreams. Carry on."

The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. Bree had paired up with Neville, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat.

"What do you suppose it means?" Neville asked when he was done.

"That you're scared of your grandmother." Bree answered flatly.

It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the Oracle and Professor Trelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. Bree planned to turn in her notebook that had BAD WOLF scrawled on all the pages, unless she actually dreamed something interesting. When the bell went, Harry and Ron led the way back down the ladder, Ron grumbling loudly.

"D'you realize how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any…"

When they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. It looked like a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Professor Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

"Well, good afternoon!" she said, when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled "good afternoon" in reply.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Bree put away her wand and pulled out her ballpoint pen that looked like a quill and some paper. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defense Against the Dark Arts A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her.

"The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centerd, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by: Course Aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read 'Chapter One, Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk."

Bree opened the book, but instead of reading looked back at the course aims and frowned. It didn't seem like the toad woman was going to let them use magic in class.

Bree looked at the other students. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air. Hermione had never neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose.

Harry had noticed this as well and looked at Hermione enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye rather than struggle on with 'Basics for Beginners'.

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. -?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but -"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way -"

"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a -"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but -"

Professor Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said,an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean angrily, "he was the best we ever -"

"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying - you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day -"

"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just -"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"

Hermione put up her hand. Professor Umbridge turned away from her.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you."

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads."

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

"Without ever practicing them beforehand?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough -"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, yeah?" said Harry. His temper was reaching boiling point.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Wendigos." Bree interjected before Harry could say somthing stupid.

"What was that miss...?" Umbridge inquired.

"Smith. And I said wendigos. Also rugarus, crocottas, shtrigas, vampires, and wraiths. Just to name a few of the creatures that have been known to kill and or eat people, oh and let's not forget the danger that humans pose to each other, and I don't just mean your petty crime, I'm talking about unstable killers like BTK, Son of Sam, the Green River Killer, the Zodiac Killer, and the Boston Strangler. And that's just a few of the ones in America, in England you have the Moors Murderers, Dr. Death, as the name implies he was a doctor who killed his patients. He was convicted for fifteen murders but is thought to have killed hundreds more. Let's see there's also Palmer the Poisoner, another Doctor, The Teacup Poisoner, and who can forget Jack the Ripper." Bree replied, grining.

"The world is a dark and dangerous place, it contains many evils campaining for our deaths. If you're not prepared it will eat you alive." Bree stated darkly.

Umbridge seemed rather shell shocked, but she quickly composed herself. "Yes well, we hardly have to worry about those in here. The classroom is perfectly safe and the exam-" Bree cut Umbridge off.

"Is about preparing us for the future when we won't be protected by this castle, which has hardly proven to be a safe place, and every summer we are out there in the world, exposed to it's dangers. Just this summer I was attacked by I dementor." Bree stated.

"Ten points from Gryffindor. I hardly have time for any of you lies, dementors are under Ministry control and it would not have sent a dementor after you." Umbridge replied.

"One attacked me too this summer." Harry interjected.

"The Ministry has no reason to send dementors after children." Umbridge insisted.

"They do if they want to shut us up about Lord Voldemort." Harry stated.

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool.

Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead -"

"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!"

'"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for yourself," said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie!" said Harry. "I saw him, Bree fought him!"

Bree covered her face with her hands. One facepalm just wasn't enough to express how stupid Harry was being.

"Detention, Mr. Potter, Miss Smith!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock."My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners'."

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

"So, according to you, Bree Crucio'd herself did she?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.

The class, except for Bree who seemed to be trying to fuse her hands to her face, stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

"Bree Smith's injuries were a tragic accident," she said coldly.

"It was not," said Harry. He was shaking. "Voldemort attacked her and you know it."

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, Harry thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear." Bree moved her hands enough that she could see what was going on.

Harry kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and Hermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him. He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

* * *

After classes were finished Bree sent a letter to Uncle Vince asking for all the information he could gather about Dolores Jane Umbridge and some better books on defense with Aries. Then, with one of the schools many barn owls, she sent an order to Skeeter telling her that she was to write about the dementor attacks and to dig up everything she could about Umbridge and send it to Bree. Bree ran into Harry into Harry on the way to yhe Great Hall for dinner.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bree demanded.

"I was trying to help!" Harry exclaimed.

"What's the point of drawing attention away from you if you're just going to take it all back!" Bree snarled.

Harry opened his mouth to retrot angrily when Bree's words finally registered. "You were trying... to draw her attention away from me?" he asked, bewildered.

"Yes! I knew you would say something about Voldemort, and you knew you would get yourself into trouble so I cut you off before you could say something incredibly stupid, but it seems that my efforts were in vain!" Bree hissed.

"I only told the truth!" Harry hissed back.

"Umbridge doesn't believe the truth and not amount of yelling is going to convince her! Getting angry and shouting at people is not a good way of convinceing anyone of anythoing, no matter if what you're shouting is the truth or not! You need to learn to control your anger before you get in over your head." Bree retorted hotly.

Harry hung his head. "McGonagall told me the same thing, and now I've got detention with UmBridge for the whole week." he said.

"You should listen to McGonagall and don't worry about the god awful toad woman(Harry smiled a bit here), I have plans." Bree whispered.

* * *

After dinner Bree went to the common room and started working on her homework. Nearby Harrry, Ron, and Hermione were nearby doing the same thing. Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the center of a knot of innocent-looking first years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.

"No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far," she said, standing up and looking positively furious. "Come on, Ron."

"I - what?" said Ron, plainly playing for time. "No- come on, Hermione - we can't tell them off for giving out sweets."

"You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or - or Puking Pastilles or -"

"Fainting Fancies?" Harry suggested quietly.

One by one, as though hit over the head with an invisible mallet, the first-years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right on to the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first-years. Ron rose halfway out of his chair, hovered uncertainly for a moment or two, then muttered to Harry, "She's got it under control," before sinking as low in his chair as his lanky frame permitted.

"That's enough!" Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise.

"Yeah, you're right," said George, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"

"I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!"

"We're paying them!" said Fred indignantly.

"I don't care, it could be dangerous!"

"Rubbish," said Fred.

"Calm down, Hermione, they're fine!" said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first-year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.

"Yeah, look, they're coming round now," said George.

A few of the first-years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that Harry was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do.

"Feel all right?" said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.

"I - I think so," she said shakily.

"Excellent," said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands.

"It is NOT excellent!"

"Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?" said Fred angrily.

"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?"

"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same -"

"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to -"

"Put us in detention?" said Fred, in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.

"Make us write lines?" said George, smirking.

Onlookers all over the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity.

"No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."

"You wouldn't," said George, horrified, taking a step back from her.

"Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not to give them to the first-years." Bree smirked, she could still give them to the first years, and so could Lee.

Fred and George looked thunderstruck. It was clear that as far as they were concerned, Hermione's threat was way below the belt. With a last threatening look at them, she thrust Fred's clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms, and stalked back to her chair by the fire. Ron was now so low in his seat that his nose was roughly level with his knees.

"Thank you for your support, Ron," Hermione said acidly.

"You handled it fine by yourself," Ron mumbled.

Hermione stared down at her blank piece of parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, "Oh, it's no good, I can't concentrate now. I'm going to bed."

She wrenched her bag open; Harry thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill and stood back to admire the effect.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity.

"They're hats for house-elves," she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag. "I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more."

"You're leaving out hats for the house-elves?" said Ron slowly. "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"

"Yes," said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag on to her back.

"That's not on," said Ron angrily. "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free."

"Of course they want to be free!" said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink.

"No Hermione. They really don't." Bree stated as she flipped through one of her textbooks. "God it's like you've never even talked to a house elf.;"

"Dobby wanted to be free." Hermione pointed out.

"Dobby worked for the Malfoys." Bree replied. "Instead of working on freeing them maybe you should be campaigning for laws mandating better treatment of the elves by their masters."

Hermione looked thoughtful as she turned and left for the girls dorm.

"Anyway…" he rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape's essay, "there's no point trying to finish this now, I can't do it without Hermione, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones, have you?"

"You could look it up." Bree suggested dryly.

"Nah." Ron said.

"And that Ron," Bree said "is why we call you the place were brain cells go to die. Can you here them Ron? Screaming in agony as they rot from disuse? Can you?" Ron had backed away from Bree and was soon fleeing up the stairs to the boy's dorms.

Bree sighed and returned to her textbook. "This place needs Google." she muttered.

* * *

537. We do not call Ron "The place where brain cells go to die."

* * *

The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Bree had accesorized her Gryfinndor uniform with her gold skull ring, studded leather choker, and silver bat earrings. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.

"But on the plus side, no Snape today" said Ron bracingly.

Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when Ron asked her what she had to be so happy about, she simply said, "The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all."

"Don't count on it." Bree stated. "House elves can only be freed if their master hands them clothes. You aren't handing them anything and you aren't their master, so the most you're doing is giving them really ugly hats."

Hermione didn't speak to her all morning. Bree was okay with this.

Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of OWLs.

"What you must remember," said little Professor Flitwick squeakily perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

They then spent over an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their OWL, and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest ever amount of Charms homework.

It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.

"You cannot pass an OWL," said Professor McGonagall grimly, "without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise.

"Yes, you too, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So… today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

She was quite right; Harry found the Vanishing Spells horribly difficult. By the end of a double period neither he nor Ron had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practicing, though Ron said hopefully he thought his looked a bit paler. Hermione, on the other hand, successfully vanished her snail on the third attempt, earning her a ten-point bonus for Gryffindor from Professor McGonagall. Bree, on the other hand, was vanishing everything _but_ the snail such as old quills, buttons, and her desk because McGonnagall failed to provid a satisfactory answer when Bree asked where the snails ended up.

After lunch it was time for care of magical creatures. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs. As Harry and Ron reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco Malfoy striding towards them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at **Harry, **he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.

"Everyone here?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her.

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Pansy Parkinson gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.

"Oooooh!" said Parvati and Lavender.

"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. "So - anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"

"Bowtruckles," said Hermione. "They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."

"Five points for Gryffindor," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Woodlice," said Hermione promptly which explained why the grains of brown rice were moving. "But fairy eggs if they can get them."

"Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle - I have enough here for one between three - you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labeled by the end of the lesson."

The class surged forwards around the trestle table. Harry deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Where's Hagrid?" he asked her, while everyone else was choosing Bowtruckles.

"Never you mind," said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class, too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest Bowtruckle**. **Bree elbowed Draco in the gut, knocking the wind out of him before he was able to say a word to Harry.

"Oops. My arm slipped." Bree stated with a grin.

* * *

After Care of Magical Creatures was Herbology so Bree walked over to the greenhouses along with the rest of the class. The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Ginny.

"Hi," she said brightly to Harry as she passed. A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose, and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry and Bree, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for them.

Many of his classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, "I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back and I believe you fought him and escaped from him."

"Er - right," said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

"You can laugh," Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, "but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they?' said Hermione impatiently. "There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Luna gave her a withering look and was about to leave when Bree placed a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Luna." Bree said kindly, a rare true smile on her face. Luna nodded and soon left.

"D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?" Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, you can do better than her," said Hermione.

"Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler."

Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to Harry.

"I want you to know, Potter," he said in a loud, carrying voice, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

Ernie's words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Brown's face.

To nobody's surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of OWLs. Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprout's preferred type of fertilizer, the Gryffindors trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of them talking very much; it had been another long day.

Harry and Bree were starving, and they had their first detention with Umbridge at five o'clock, they headed straight for dinner without dropping off their bags in Gryffindor Tower so that they could bolt something down before facing whatever she had in store for them. They had barely reached the entrance of the Great Hall, however, when a loud and angry voice yelled, "Oy, Potter!"

"What now?" he muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she was in a towering temper.

"I'll tell you what now," she said, marching straight up to him and poking him hard in the chest with her finger. "How come you've landed yourself in detention for five o'clock on Friday?"

"What?" said Harry. "Why… oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!"

"Now he remembers!" snarled Angelina. "Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone! Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide not to be there!" said Harry, stung by the injustice of these words. "I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who."

"Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday," said Angelina fiercely, "and I don't care how you do it. Tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you're there!"

She turned on her heel and stormed away.

"You know what?" Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they entered the Great Hall. "I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session, because Angelina seems to be channeling his spirit."

"What d'you reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off on Friday?" said Ron skeptically, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Less than zero," said Harry glumly, tipping lamb chops on to his plate and starting to eat. "Better try, though, hadn't I? I'll offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno…" He swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, "I hope she doesn't keep me too long this realize we've got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a counter-charm for Flitwick, finish the Bowtruckle drawing and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?"

Ron moaned and for some reason glanced up at the ceiling.

"And it looks like it's going to rain."

"What's that got to do with our homework?" said Hermione, her eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," said Ron at once, his ears reddening.

At five to five Harry and Bree bade their peers goodbye and set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor. When Harry knocked on the door she called, "Come in," in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around.

He had known this office under three of its previous occupants.

In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of himself. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Moody's days it had been packed with various instruments and artifacts for the detection of wrong doing and concealment.

Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each one residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Miss Smith"

Harry started and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

"Evening, Professor Umbridge," Harry said stiffly. Bree glared.

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing towards two small tables draped in lace beside each she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the tables, apparently waiting for them. Bree sat down, but Harry remained standing.

"Er," said Harry, without moving. "Professor Umbridge. Er - before we start, I - I wanted to ask you a… a favor."

Her bulging eyes narrowed.

"Oh, yes?"

"Well, I'm… I'm in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday and I was - was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it - do it another night… instead…"

He knew long before he reached the end of his sentence that it was no good.

"Oh, no," said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly.

"Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

Harry turned red in anger.

She was watching him with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see whether he would start shouting again. With a massive effort, Harry looked away from her, dropped his schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair and sat down.

"There," said Umbridge sweetly, "we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me. No, not with your quill," she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."

She handed them a long, thin black quills with unusually sharp points.

"I want you to write, I must not tell lies," she told him softly.

"How many times?" Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."

She moved over to her desk, sat down and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill, then realized what was missing.

"You haven't given us any ink," he said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

Bree and Harry wrote out "I must not tell lies."

Harry gasped in pain, Bree grimaced but made no sound. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of their right hands, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel - yet even as they stared at the shining cuts, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where they had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

Harry looked round at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," said Harry quietly.

He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill on it once more, wrote I must not tell lies; once again, the words had been cut into his skin; once again, they healed over seconds later.

Bree however, examined the quill with a calculating look and decided to conduct an experiment. She pressed the quill against the paper and found that when she pushed harder more "ink" flowed from the quill while the cuts on her hand became deeper and took longer to heal. Most people would take this information and write lightly with the quill, Bree had other plans.

She pressed the quill against the paper as hard as she could as she wrote out "I must not tell lies." After half an hour the cuts on her hand were open, bleeding, and not showing any sign of healing. Umbridge stopped Bree.

"Miss Smith, come here." the pink toad called.

Bree stood up.

"Hand," Umbridge ordered.

Bree extended it. Umbridge took it in her own. Bree frowned as Umbridge touched her with thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.

"I seem to have made quite the impression," she said, smiling uneasily. "You may go. And don't think about going to the hospital wing, this is your punsishment after all."

"Yes Ma'am." Bree said, her face blank, but there was a glint in her eyes, a certain fury and malice along with the cunning and intelligence of an apex predetor.

Bree left the room and headed straight for Mamdam Promfrey's office. She didn't say a word when she showed the nurse her hand and got exactly the reaction she was expecting. Mamdam Pomfrey began ranting a raving about "blood quills" and began making floo calls while Bree watched from her spot on a cot, grinning.

* * *

**So for any of you worried about Bree's mental heatlh, Bree only maimed herself so that she would have evidence to present.**

**Review Please! They motivate me, though I must warn you that I'm going to a convention this weekend so I won't be working on the next chapter those days so it might take a little longer for the next chapter to be out, but it's not like these updates are regular anyway.**


	50. Year 5: Cats Play With Their Prey

Bree smiled as Rita's photographer took a picture of her hand. The public would roast Umbridge alive and there wasn't a damn thing the toad could do about it. Nearby Harry was being fussed over by Madam Pomfrey while Auror Tonks and Auror Shaklebolt asked him a few questions.

Almost as soon as Bree had showed Madam Pomfrey her hand the nurse had summoned Professor McGonagall who, upon hearing that Harry was still in detention with the awful pink toad woman had stormed down to Umbridge's office, chewed her out, and then dragged Harry to the hospital wing to get treated by Madam Pomfrey.

Madam Pomfrey hadn't been able to completely heal Bree's hand because of the nature of the blood quill, but she had been able to make the cuts a little shallower, but she said that they'd have to heal the rest of the way on their own.

* * *

The next day Bree was wearing the Smith Academy uniform, with one minor change, she had added the Gryffindor tie to the outfit.

When the post came, Aries dropped off a thick manila envelope in Bree's lap before landing next to Bree. Bree fed him some bacon and adjusted the blue and green polka dotted scarf that was around the owl's neck before opening the envelope and reading the contents. While Bree was doing this, Aries had turned his head around nearly a hundred degrees in order to stare at Lee Jordan who was now hurriedly eating his breakfast so that he could get out of there as soon as possible.

The envelope had been sent by Uncle Vince and contained all the information he had on Umbridge. Apparently Umbridge was the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. Bree had meant to read further, but just then an owl carrying the daily prophet flew down and landed in front of her. Bree paid the owl and took the paper from the owl. The headline read "MINISTRY OFFICIAL TORTURES STUDENTS" with a picture of Bree's hand under it. The article was highly critical of the ministry and of Umbridge and mentioned the dementors that had attacked Bree, Harry, and Cedric (See page 2 for more details.) On page 2 there was a picture of Roman with a dementors arm in his jaws (he had kept it as a chew toy.) Both articles had quotes from ministry officials who either provided a weak defense of the ministry's actions or denied that said actions ever occurred.

The public was outraged and soon there were hundreds of howlers to Umbridge. Soon most of the students had left the Great Hall because of the noise of so many howlers yelling at once.

* * *

Even though Rita hadn't mentioned the names of the students that had been forced to use blood quills, but everyone in Hogwarts knew since Bree and Harry had been the only ones to serve detention with Umbridge. Defense against the dark arts classes were suspended

* * *

On Friday Bree didn't bother going to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts because shehad received a letter from Alice that morning and was writing a response before she started on a letter to Percy and she didn't want anyone to see either letter.

Alice's letter had informed Bree the Umbridge was big news in America's magical communites and all the news outlets were criticizing her and the archaic way of the British Ministry of Magic. Alice had also told Bree that she had been having problems with the words "BAD WOLF" echoing in her head and wanted to know if Bree had been having the same problem. Bree told her that she had been having similar problems and assured her that it was just a time/space echo and the there was nothing to worry about.

Bree's letter to Percy had nothing to do with the Third Option as one might expect. Instead she told him about recent events at the school, how his family was doing, and asked what his Christmas plans were. This was to keep his spirits up. Bree did this both out a genuine concern for Percy and because a depressed spy isn't a good spy.

The letters sent and homework for the week completed, Bree finally had time alone to go through the envelope that Uncle Vince had sent.

Apparently Umbridge was known for anti-werewolf legislation and having campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged. Umbridge was prejudiced against "half-breeds" which meant any creature that had humanlike features. Bree also found out why Umbridge's classes sucked so much: Fudge didn't want Harry trained in combat. Apparently Fudge was afraid that that Dumbledore was raising an army to take over the Ministry.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team burst into the common room almost as soon as Bree was done reading. Ron had made keeper and now it was time to party.

After about an hour Hermione started dozing in an armchair by the fire, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.

"Let her sleep," George said hastily when Bree started walking towards Hermione. Several of the first-years gathered around them bore unmistakable signs of recent nosebleeds.

"Did you drug Hermione so that you could test the nougat on the first years?" Bree asked.

"Maybe." George answered.

A little while later Bree found Harry sitting at a table drinking a butter-beer. Nearby Fred, George, and Lee were juggling empty bottles. Bree came up behind him. She leaned down so that she was right next to his ear.

"HARRY! Guess what I have!" she exclaimed. Harry jumped slightly and fumbled with his butter-beer, spilling some of it in his lap. He turned to Bree and, after finding her grinning face mere inches from his, fell out of his chair. George, Fred, and Lee stopped juggling to watch.

Bree waved the envelope with information about Umbridge. "Guess what I have!" Bree exclaimed again, grinning madly.

"How much sugar have you had?" Hermione asked, having woken up when Harry fell out of his chair.

"A lot. Now guess what I have." Bree said as Ron helped Harry off the floor. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, trying in vain to stave off a headache.

"What do you have, Bree?" she asked.

"I have dirt on Umbridge!" Bree declared.

"What!" most of the room exclaimed.

"Let me see that." Fred demanded, snatching the envelope from Bree. He sat on a couch and started going through the papers.

"She wants mer-people rounded up and tagged?" he asked incredulously after a few minutes.

"That's insane." Harry stated.

"It gets better." Bree said, still grinning.

A few more minutes of reading went by. "THE MINISTRY THINKS THAT DUMBLEDORE IS RAISING AN ARMY!" Fred shouted.

"WHAT!" most of the room exclaimed.

"Yep." Bree said.

"Where did you get this from, these documents all look official." Hermione said as she examined the papers.

"I know a guy." Bree stated.

"But-" Hermione began to protest but was cut off.

"Look, isn't the fact that the Ministry has gone insane and is now sabotaging the education of every Hogwarts student more important than where I got the information?" Bree asked.

"She's right. So what are we going to about it?" George said.

No one had an answer.

* * *

The weather had been bad since the first day of school, if it wasn't raining than it was threatening to rain and the grass was always wet meaning that Bree couldn't practice bush magic until the weekend when she finally thought to put down a blanket. Bree found a secluded spot on the grounds to put down a blanket, lie down, and meditate. She began relaxing a reaching out with magic like she usually did, feeling her surroundings. The grass, some of the plants in the greenhouses, a few earth worms, and then she found something else, something strange, something that reached out to Bree's magic, grabbed it, and pulled.

Bree soon realized that what she had found was Hogwarts itself. The wards the founders had constructed made the castle somewhat sentient; able to make its own decisions and warn the professors in case of an emergency, but it had gone dormant because in order to remain active it had to be contacted so that it could bond with the professor's and the headmaster, but no one had done this in a very long time, at least not until Bree did and Hogwarts woke up and got very excited.

The castle didn't really care that Bree wasn't a teacher or an authority in the school since it hadn't been contacted in such a very long time. It was so happy that it showed Bree everything, the entire lay out of the school and every secret passage, some of which weren't even on the Marauder's Map. It showed her every nook and cranny, everything that needed to be repaired, the locations of everyone in the castle and on the grounds, the status of all the security wards and monitoring wards and everything in between. Bree's head was hurting, it felt like instead of just showing her things Hogwarts was actively trying to shove things into her mind, but it wasn't getting past the barrier around her mind and it was so painful that Bree screamed and her magic lashed out, breaking the windows of the greenhouses. Hogwarts backed off as Bree blacked out.

Bree woke up sometime later, disoriented and confused. She sat up and put a hand to her head.

"Oww." She groaned. "Note to self, no bush magic near Hogwarts."

* * *

Bree stumbled into the common room.

"There you are, where have you been all day? You told us you were going to come watch Quidditch practice." George said.

Bree blinked, confused.

"Yeah. How was that?" she asked.

"Terrible." Fred answered.

"Oh. Well… See you tomorrow." Bree said.

"Where are you going?" George asked.

"Bed." Bree replied as she stumbled off to the girls' dorms.

* * *

Bree felt horrible on Monday morning. Hogwarts had kept her up most of the night. Bree wasn't meditating anymore, so the castle couldn't show her anything anymore, but that didn't change the fact the school was now awake and wanted to "talk" with the only person capable of hearing it. As she stumbled down to breakfast, Bree could feel the magic of Hogwarts clinging to her like a small child that had jumped on her back and was insisting on a horsey ride.

Bree was falling asleep at the table and George was watching her in case it looked like she was going to face plant into her plate of eggs.

Bree was suddenly wide awake when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper she was looking at to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline.

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED

FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

"Umbridge – Inquisitor?" said Harry darkly, his half-eaten piece of toast slipping from his fingers. "What does that mean?" Hermione read aloud: "In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"'The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time,' said junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. 'He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve.'

"This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as August 30th, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.

'That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts,' said Weasley last night. 'Dumboldore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge. She's been totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts.'

"It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalized with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

"'This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts,' said Weasley. 'The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post, after being cleared of any wrongdoing after mishandling a detention, and she has accepted.'

(For more information on Umbridge's misdeeds see page twenty-four)

'I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night.

'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'

"The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.

"Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts "'I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence,' said a Ministry insider last night. Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.

"'Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,' said Madam Marchbanks. 'This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore.'

"(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)"

Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two.

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this Decree and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!" Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"

"You said it." Bree muttered, looking at her bandaged hand.

But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.

"Why are you so happy?" Fred asked.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

"Well, come on," said Hermione, jumping up, "we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late…"

But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Bree's moonstone essay was handed back to her with a large 'A' scrawled in an upper corner.

"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL," said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination."

Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.

"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a D."

He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got a D? Ha!"

* * *

"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Hermione, as they climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?"

When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on, "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?"

Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.

"Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on…"

They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.

"Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an O -"

"Hermione," said Ron sharply "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."

"I don't - I didn't mean - well, if you want to tell me -"

"I got a P," said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?"

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. "Nothing wrong with a good healthy P."

"But," said Hermione, "doesn't P stand for…"

"Poor, yeah," said Lee Jordan. "Still, better than D, isn't it? 'Dreadful'?"

Harry faked a small coughing fit over his roll. When he emerged from this he was sorry to find that Hermione was still in full flow about OWL grades.

"So top grade's O for 'Outstanding'," she was saying, 'and then there's A-"

"No, E," George corrected her, "E for 'Exceeds Expectations'. And I've always thought Fred and should've got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams."

They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, "So, after E it's A for 'Acceptable', and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"

"Yep," said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole.

"Then you get P for 'Poor'-" Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration - "and D for 'Dreadful'."

"And then T," George reminded him.

"T?" asked Hermione, looking appalled. "Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?"

"Troll", said George promptly.

Harry laughed again, though he was not sure whether or not George was joking.

"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred asked them.

"No, what about you?" Bree responded.

"Just now, before lunch," said George. "Charms."

"What was it like?" Harry and Hermione asked together.

Fred shrugged.

"Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it."

"I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down," said George, "he usually gets everyone through their exams all right."

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harry.

"Trelawney -"

"A T if ever I saw one."

"- and Umbridge herself."

"Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today" said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices."

But Harry did not have to wait for Defense Against the Dark Arts to meet Professor Umbridge.

He was pulling out his dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Ron elbowed him in the ribs and, looking round, he saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily fell silent at once.

The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out copies of The Dream Oracle, look round.

"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"

Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawneys seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.

Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses.

"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other's latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle."

She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left towards Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.

Harry opened his copy of The Dream Oracle, watching Umbridge covertly. She was already making notes on her clipboard. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there.

"Now," said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, "you've been in this post how long, exactly?"

Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, "Nearly sixteen years."

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.

Another note on the clipboard. "But I think - correct me if I am mistaken - that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?"

"These things often skip - er - three generations," said Professor Trelawney.

Professor Umbridge's toad like smile widened.

"Of course," she said sweetly, making yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" And she looked up enquiringly, still smiling.

Professor Trelawney stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. "I don't understand you," she said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly.

"That's not how it works." Bree stated irritably.

"Excuse me?" Umbridge said.

"That's not how divination works." Bree repeated.

"Oh? And how would you know that?" Umbridge asked with false sweetness.

"Miss Smith is one of my top students. I believe that she processes the inner eye." Trelawney explained.

"I see… Well then Miss Smith why don't _you_ make a prediction for me?" Umbridge asked.

Bree sighed, flipped through the pages of her dream journal before closing it and facing Umbridge.

"You are caught in a trap that you can't see. You'll be played with until the cat decides to move in for the kill. But don't worry, you will succeed in life, but only because the higher you rise, the farther you'll fall." Bree said while grinning maliciously.

Umbridge wrote something down and then hurried away from Bree.

The next class was defense. Bree skipped it and went to the library.

"It's not in "Rare Magical Creatures" or "Magical Creatures in Muggle Media." Where is it?" Bree was muttering as she searched the library shelves. Suddenly a book fell off of a shelf behind her and opened to the subject Bree was looking for. Hogwarts nudged a Bree.

"Made famous by Lewis Carol's "Alice in Wonderland" the Cheshire Cat is…" she read. "This is it! This is what I've been looking for!"

Hogwart beamed happily.

"Thanks... castle." Bree said before taking the book to a table and reading.

"The Cheshire Cat is widely thought to be fictional, but in fact there are several recorded encounters with the mysterious creature. The Cheshire Cat is capable of human speech but usually speaks in riddles. It is also has mysterious powers can turn invisible and teleports from one place to another. They wear an almost permanent grin on their faces. Some have also demonstrated the ability to separate their body parts and move them around in odd positions to see the reaction of their audience. At the end of and encounter the Cheshire Cat has been known to gradually fade from sight, leaving only their disembodied grin, before eventually that fades away as well.

Cheshire Cat as an Animagus Form

There is only wizard alleged to be a Cheshire Cat animagus. He is reported to have originally had a normal stripped cat as an animagus form, but after being hit by a dark wizard's curse he went mad and is animagus form changed to that of a Cheshire Cat. Is it unknown if he was able to access all of the Cheshire Cat's abilities as he is reported to have disappeared into the woods weeks after having been cursed and was never seen again."

Bree closed the book and headed to dinner. In the Great Hall Angelina was yelling at Harry. Bree sat down near Hermione.

"You weren't in defense." She accused.

"No, no I was not." Bree stated as she began to eat.

"Well where were you?" Hermione asked.

"Reading." Bree stated.

"You're just going to make Umbridge mad." Hermione said.

"I know what I'm doing Hermione." Bree said.

"You do whatever you feel like doing, without a thinking about the consequences." Hermione accused.

"I think about them Hermione. I just don't care. Make no mistake, I have a plan that's already in motion. The pawns are in place and I'm already playing the game, just you watch, I'm going to win." Bree explained, grinning madly the whole time.

* * *

**Review please!**


	51. Year 5: The Game

**More fanart! YAY! **

**http:/****/ ****kate33. **** /gallery/#/d4rmoto (remove spaces)**

* * *

On Tuesday morning Draco told Bree that Umbridge wanted to see her in her office that evening. He said it in a pompous superior tone that told Bree that the blond ferret needed to be knocked down a few pegs. She transfigured his robes into a playboy bunny outfit.

In the Great Hall, five seconds later.

"! SNAPE!" came a shout from outside.

"SNAPE!" the person shouting run into the room. It was Bree Smith. Snape felt the urge to flee, but that would have been very un-Slytherin.

"I need a memory wiping potion!" Bree exclaimed when she got to the head table.

"What?" Snape questioned.

Bree grabbed Snape by the front of his robes "I _need_ a memory wiping potion. The image is burned into my mind, I must get it out." She said.

Snape freed himself from Bree's grip. "Calm down and explain yourself, Smith." He demanded. The sound of laughter could be head from outside the Great Hall, along with a voice shouting "SHUT UP! SHUT UP ALL OF YOU! IT'S NOT FUNNY!"

"Draco?" Snape questioned heading toward the door.

In the entrance hall a group of laughing students was surrounding Draco who was dressed in a Playboy Bunny outfit and wobbling on five inch heels. Bree whimpered. There was a flash from Colin Creevy's camera.

"The horror! The horror" the twins yelled.

"Can I please have a memory wiping potion Professor? Or a whole lot of alcohol, it's practically the same thing anyway." Bree begged.

Snape sighed. "Detention Smith."

* * *

554. Not allowed to transfigure Draco Malfoy's clothes into a playboy bunny outfit.

555. On a related note, not allowed to beg Snape to give me a memory wiping potion.

- Alcohol is not a memory wiping potion.

* * *

When the post came, Bree got two deliveries. The first was from Rita. It contained every rumor and dirty little secret that surrounded Umbridge. The second was from Ben. At Vince's order he had gathered defense books that were the best of the best, put them in a box that was bigger on the inside, charmed it weightless and sent it to Bree. It looked like she had only received one book, when actually she had gotten enough books to fill an entire shelf.

Charms was normal, but in Transfiguration Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner.

"Excellent," whispered Ron, as they sat down in their usual seats. "Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves."

Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.

"That will do," she said and silence fell immediately. "Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework - Miss Brown, please take this box of mice - don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you - and hand one to each student -"

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Bree' essay and Bree saw that she had gotten an E.

"Right then, everyone, listen closely - Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention - most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be -"

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge.

"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—"

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge.

Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. "As I was saying: today, we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell -"

"Hem, hem."

"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."

Professor Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had followed Professor Trelawney; perhaps she realized Professor McGonagall would not permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while sitting in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.

"Well, it's a start," said Ron, holding up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around. Bree had pocketed her mouse when no one was looking and instead spent the class period vanishing her desk piece by piece instead of all at once as she had during the snails lesson.

After she left the classroom she found an empty stretch of hallway and released the mouse.

"Be free." She whispered to it as it disappeared into a crack in the wall. It would probably be killed later by a cat or an owl, but Bree felt that that was probably better than whatever happened to the vanished mice.

Bree had thought that the next time she would see Umbridge would be later that evening, but she was wrong. When they walked down the lawns towards the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, they found Umbridge and her clipboard waiting for them beside Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" she asked as they arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive Bowtruckles were scrabbling around for woodlice like so many living twigs.

"Quite correct," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."

Harry exchanged uneasy looks with Ron and Hermione. Malfoy was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle; he would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Hagrid to a member of the Ministry.

"Hmm," said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice. "I wonder - the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter - can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"

Malfoy looked up eagerly and watched Umbridge and Grubbly-Plank closely.

"Fraid I can't," said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. "Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks' teaching work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well… shall I get started then?"

"Yes, please do," said Professor Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.

Umbridge took a different tack in this class and wandered amongst the students, questioning them on magical creatures. Most people were able to answer well.

"And what are you planning to cover with this class this year - assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"

"Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in OWL," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Not much left to do - they've studied unicorns and Nifflers, I thought we'd cover Porlocks and Kneazles, make sure they can recognize Crups and Knarls, you know…"

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. She put her next question to Goyle. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

Goyle gave a stupid grin. Bree answered first.

"That was me." She said, tugging open her collar to show off her scars. "Malfoy insulted a hippogriff even though we had been clearly warned not to do so. Everyone who followed instructions were fine, but I guess Malfoy had better things to do than listen to the Professor."

"I see." said Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically.

"Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

"Jolly good," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.

* * *

Bree had to go Umbridge's office after dinner. Naturally she wasn't very happy about this. She decided that her anger was best expressed through song. And not any of the dumb High School Musical Stuff either.

"Seems everything I did was wrong and now everything's gone

Alone and silent, now this time is just for me

I never wanted a part of this that got inside of me

I thought I could get rid of you it's not true

I wanted to get away I've never known what to say

You were behind me but never all the way

And now I'll put up a fight this is destined to end tonight

A course of action, execution, start the sequence go!

One, Two, I'll start with you because you had the most to lose

Three, Four, on the ground, humanity is going down

Five, Six, now attack, this time with no touchbacks

Seven, Eight, in spite of all our instincts we must strike

Mass of destruction lies in my wake, all this is for me to take

You were beside me but this revenge is just for me

This tidal wave of obsessive rage needing to satiate

The forces behind a hostile state

One, Two, I'll start with you because you had the most to lose

Three, Four, on the ground, humanity is going down

Five, Six, now attack, this time with no touchbacks

Seven, Eight, in spite… start counting

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

All bets are off this time we're shutting off

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

And now, that's right, you all fall down

Taking my attack stance right now

Making sure you all get knocked down

Don't try anything that gets in my way

This time no one gets a say

Seems everything I did was wrong and now everything's gone

Alone and silent, now this time is just for me

I never wanted a part of this that got inside of me

I thought I could get rid of you it's not true

One, Two, Look at you, you have nothing left to prove

Three, Four, on the ground, your whole world crashing down"

"Bree, stop it!" Hermione interrupted.

"Why?" Bree asked.

"You're scaring the second years!" Hermione exclaimed, pointing to a group of Ravenclaws huddled in a corner.

"Well, it's their fault for not being used to it by now. They've already been here a year." Bree stated.

Hermione glared.

"Can't I at least finish the last verse?"

"No."

"Stupid over glorified hall monitor." Bree muttered as she continued to Umbridge's office.

"Hey!"

* * *

323. Not allowed to sing "My Revenge On The World" by Ayria when summoned to Umbridge's office.

- because it scares people, that's why.

331. The prefects find it offensive when I call the "Over glorified hall monitors."

* * *

When Bree arrived at the pink toad's office she was asked to it down. Bree declined.

"You failed to attend my class yesterday." Umbridge stated.

"Yes. Yes I did." Bree deadpanned.

"Do you have an explanation for your absence?" the pink menace asked.

"I was dead at the time." Bree replied with a straight face.

"Dead?" Umbridge questioned skeptically.

"Yep." Bree replied blandly.

"You do not appear to dead at the moment." The toad said dryly.

"I got better. But I'll probably have a relapse whenever you have a class." Bree replied.

"Really?" Umbridge said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. I'm deathly allergic to your classes, you see." Bree responded.

"And what if I don't believe you?" Umbridge asked.

"Well then," Bree began, a grin finally breaking out on her previously emotionless face, "that changes _everything_!"

"You see this uniform? You see it?" Bree asked while gesturing to her outfit.

"Yes, that was the next issue I was going to address." Umbridge said, distain in her voice.

"This is the uniform of the Smith Academy, which, thanks to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, is fully recognized by the ministry as a legitimate school, currently being hosted at Hogwarts. The head of the Academy gets to decide what the uniform is, what classes are taught to the Academy's students and can start new classes if the Academy can put up the money to hire a new teacher.

As the founder, head, and only student of the Smith Academy I have decided to remove your defense class from the curriculum and change that time to free study period, and considering your prior treatment of Smith Academy's student body, more specifically my body," Bree pointed to the back her here "the founder and head of the Academy, of which I am both, have decided that you have no authority over the Academy's students, of which I am the only one, for health and safety reasons." Bree explained.

"You can't do that!" Umbridge exclaimed, standing up to meet Bree at eye level and to try a stare her down. It didn't work. Umbridge had overlooked the fact that, even without her boots, Bree was taller than the old toad.

Bree leaned over the desk, grinning widely, a certain kind of terrifyingly cunning madness in her eyes. "I already did." Bree growled.

Umbridge sat back down.

"Now listen here you sniveling little plague on the earth." Bree whispered. "The pawns are in place. The ace is up my sleeve. This is my game; you're only here for my amusement. You are here to provide this years' challenge, and once I get bored with you I'll remove you from play. You're survival is dependent on how much you entertain me, but take this word of advice, if you hurt my friends or family I. Will. End. You. Your only benefit to me is the minor challenge you provide as you try to take over the school. You are not my friend. I do not like you. You can provide no useful service to me and you have little in monetary value. In other words; _you are expendable_.

On any given day, no at any given _moment_, I might decide to get rid of you. Now Umbridge, I'm going to leave now, but I want you to keep in mind, you're playing a game you can't possibly win." And with that, Bree left the office and went to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

199. "I was dead at the time" is not an excuse for missing class.

* * *

As soon as Bree got into the common room she heard Hermione say "I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Bree stared at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. None of them noticed her.

Harry stared at Hermione. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione elaborated on far-fetched schemes like SPEW to Harrys consternation, however, Ron did not look exasperated.

He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, "That's an idea."

"What's an idea?" said Harry.

"You," said Ron. "Teaching us to do it."

"But…"

Harry was grinning now, sure the pair of them were pulling his leg.

"But I'm not a teacher, I can't -"

"Harry, you're the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Harry, now grinning more broadly than ever. "No I'm not, you've beaten me in every test -"

"Actually, I haven't," said Hermione coolly. "You beat me in our third year - the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Think what you've done!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione, smirking slightly. He turned to Harry.

"Let's think," he said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. "Uh… first year - you saved the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."

"But that was luck," said Harry, "it wasn't skill."

"Second year," Ron interrupted, "you killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up, I -"

"Wasn't the Basilisk dead before Fawkes showed up?" Bree asked. "And you did pretty well in the Tri-Wizard Tournament." She added. Harry turned to her.

"So did you." He stated.

"Yeah, my rampant madness does give me a certain advantage, but that's not something you can really teach." Bree replied.

"It's not like I could any better than you could." Harry snapped.

"I thought the point was to teach better than Umbridge." Bree stated.

"Will you at least think about it Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Fine." Harry said.

"Great well, I'm off to bed!" Bree said cheerily.

Line line line

The next morning, just after breakfast Bree was stopped by Professor McGonagall and man Bree didn't know.

"Someone in the school raised concerns about your mental health, so the Ministry sent Healer Michaels to evaluate you." McGonagall explained.

Bree looked toward the head table where Umbridge was sitting. The toad woman smirked at her. Bree sent a grin back and the smirk faltered. Bree adopted a neutral expression and looked a Healer Michaels; he was an old man with graying hair.

"Well, let's get this over with." Bree said.

* * *

**Here's a link to the song Bree sings. youtube .com/watch?v=NWR8QB-XPfw**


	52. Year 5: Some Kind of Wonderland

**I got an interesting review from Jordan on chapter 50 and I forgot to address it so here is the review:**

_**I can imagine Bree having actual fun with the Ministry degrees. Hell, all that paperwork that Umbridge makes for herself to actually perform all of those degrees, not even going into the paperwork the students have to have ratified for her. Can you imagine just what an overworked paperpusher will overlook in that case, Bree could even form her own Inquisiter Squad with permission for one (or her own shoolyard mafia)? The castle bit works nicely, kind of reminds me a bit of the TARDIS communicating with the Doctor; on the other hand can you imagine the looks that she would get by asking the castle for something and actually receiving it? The fear of the students, she is omnicent.**_

_**Moving on to romance, I really think Bree has the oblivious vibe going far for her; but as a cunning force of a joke gone wrong, please let the idea that she has a harem work itself around. Imagine the fun of people actually applying to Luna for either positions, or safety from it. Fred and George can be the senior membors with Lee as the person trying to tell everybody that there is no harem. Best part would be if this was a result of an offhand comment froim Bree, her having no idea that this is happening with all the other projects that she is working on.**_

_**Oh, and whenever Bree brings the twins onto her side, since they seem to be the closest to requitment, try to either shock them into fainting, or join in on the mayhem.**_

**Okay so the harem idea is very interesting but I don't think it will make it into the story but, I have been toying with the idea of starting a side story that would just be a collection of one-shots where Bree deals with various clichés in Harry Potter fanfiction, such as: Veela Draco, time travel, creature heritage, veil of death as a portal to AUs or other world (i.e. Middle Earth, Naruto-verse, etc.), and of course harems. But would anyone want to read about Bree taking on these challenges?**

* * *

Bree's evaluation was taking place in Madam Pomfrey's office which was just off the hospital wing. It served as additional storage space for medical supplies and as a place where Madam Pomfrey could update a student's medical records. Bree sat across from Healer Michaels. She stared for a moment before finally deciding to speak.

"You need to find a real job instead of, you know, institutionalizing people that the ministry wants to go away." she said flatly.

"I only institutionalize those who need it." Michaels replied.

"If you say so." Bree muttered skeptically.

"Now then," Michaels began "Do you know why you're here?"

"Because Umbridge told the ministry that I'm crazy." Bree responded.

"Do you know why Professor Umbridge feels that you have mental health issues?" Michaels asked, scribbling notes.

"Yes. I scare her." Bree answered.

"Professor Umbridge believes that you have delusions of power and that your erratic behavior may end up harming other students." Michaels explained.

"Erratic implies that I'm out of control and I don't know what I'm doing. I know damn well what I'm doing. I'm rebelling against a society that needs to change and a government that has turned against the people and cares only about staying in power." Bree stated coldly.

Michaels "hmmed." "Bree, what I like to do is take a peek into your mind and see if you're really as in control of your actions as you say."

"Go ahead." Bree stated, looking Michaels right in the eye. She didn't fight as he tried to push into her mind.

Inside of Bree mindscape, Michaels found himself outside of a glistening golden wall that hurt to look at where the "pathways of the mind" should have begun, he didn't know it, but it was the block that stopped the pathways the psychic worm had created from bringing in information and overloading Bree's mind. But it didn't cover the naturally formed pathways which didn't seem to have any protection at all. Michaels stepped onto one of these pathways, which looked like naturally formed trails, and met up with little resistance as something, or a combination of somethings, analyzed and judged him before letting him pass.

Michaels has the feeling that if Bree hadn't allowed him in then the golden and whatever else there was defending Bree's mind would have kicked him out and he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. He knows that the golden wall is some sort of very advanced defense. He also knows that Bree didn't put it there and he's not quite sure what to make of that.

Once he had started down the path he was able to see the paths that the wall was blocking. What he saw disturbed him. The paths were unnatural; they looked as if they had been gouged into the ground but still had the paved quality of asphalt, if asphalt came in a particularly angry shade of metallic red that is. Some of the natural paths intersected the unnatural ones, and others didn't, Michaels was on one of the one that did. As soon as he stepped onto one the unnatural paths he found himself being speed down it before the path curved and he was flung into a tree.

Laughter filled the air. Michaels got up and found the source of the laughter sitting in the trees branches. It looked like Bree, but with slivery blond hair instead of the darker shade Bree had. "Information moves a lot more quickly on those paths, but I guess you already knew that." She said, amused.

"Those are not natural." Michaels muttered.

"No, they're not, but they make the mind work so much faster, especially since they're not clogged up with all the memories that aren't anymore." The not-Bree replied.

"Memories that aren't what?" Michaels questioned.

"Memories that aren't mine!" the not-Bree responded happily.

"But you can't have memories that aren't yours! That's impossible!" Michaels protested.

The not-Bree grinned just a little bit wider than was possible for a human. "Some would say the same of time travel, or magic. Those that say something is impossible just don't know the scope of what is possible." She stated.

Michaels sighed. He had forgotten for a moment the Bree he was talking to was only a product of the real Bree's mind and was therefore incapable of really changing her opinions unless the real Bree changed. It was odd; most mental constructs he met didn't look so much like their creators.

"You're here to make sure that we're sane right?" the non-Bree asked.

"Yes." Michaels answered, not at all bothered by the plural.

"And you would be able to job faster if you had someone to guide though this place right?" Not-Bree suggested.

"Yes a guide would make things much easier." Michaels agreed.

"Well I'm not exactly a guide… But I suppose I could maybe possibly help. Where would you like to start?" Not-Bree inquired.

"How about with the memories that aren't?" Michaels asked.

Not-Bree's grin disappeared. "No." she said.

"But it could provide valuable information key to understanding-" Michaels was cut off.

"They're not the kind of thing you start with." Not-Bree started flatly. Then she grinned her too wide grin again. It'd be better with you started by going that way." She said pointing in two directions at once. "No maybe that way." She crossed her arms so each hand was pointing in the direction opposite of what they had been. "No, actually you should go… that way." She pointed straight down. A hole opened up and Michaels fell as not-Bree waved goodbye, grinning madly the whole time.

* * *

Michaels found himself in a large area that's cluttered with gravestones and consumed by dark fog. The gravestones are packed tightly together and seem to form a small canyon will walls made of gravestones piled on top of one another making Michaels feel like he'd be crushed at any moment.

There's only one path to take and Michaels starts walking, unable to see more than a few feet ahead of him due to the fog. Soon the gravestones start to mold into a stone wall and Michaels finds himself the courtyard of a crumbling old stone building. There is a very distinctive crack in one of the walls and Michaels could almost swear it was whispering. The courtyard is empty except for an angel statue with a snake wrapped around its neck, choking the life out of the angel.

Michaels approached the statue carefully. After seeing what he had of Bree's mind he knew that it was configured defensively. There were three way to get this type of mind. The first was to become skilled in occlumency and put up your defenses yourself. The second was to have someone else do it for you. The third was to have it happen naturally, which didn't happen very often. Normally people tend to have their minds rather organized so that they could easily remember what they needed to (of course some people remembered certain things better than others but that was the result of differences in personality, interests, etc.), people how have had a traumatic experience will often try to repress the memory and people who have had someone invade their mind would hide the memories in unexpected places.

Bree mind seemed to have been tampered with, someone has attacked it and someone else had tried to fix the damage and Bree's mind had rearranged itself to confuse other people and hide things from them.

With that in mind, Michaels touched the statue and was sucked into a memory.

_Graveyard. Confusion. _

"_Kill the spares." _

_Panic. _

"_HIT THE DECK!" _

_Fear. Terror. _

_"We're not leaving him." _

_Planning. Determination. _

_"Don't worry about me, just get Harry." _

_Adrenaline rush._

_"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"_

_Don't think, just act._

_"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master."_

_"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."_

_Voldemort had risen. Panic._

_"Obscuro!"_

_It worked!_

_"Depulso!"_

_That'll buy us some time._

_"Confringo!"_

_Take that rat!_

_"Crucio!"_

_PAIN. PAIN. PAIN._

_"Accio Bree!"_

The world disappeared in a whirl of color and Michaels was back in the courtyard with the statue, only this time the crack in the wall had spilt open wide enough for him to walk through. He walked over to the crack and saw a new landscape that he couldn't quite make out because it what such a long way down. Not wanting to endure such a long fall, even if it was all in Bree's head, he turned around and came face to face with not-Bree. She was different now; before she had been an exact copy of Bree, save for the too wide grin and the strawberry blond hair. Now her pupils were stilled like a cat's and there were claws where her fingernails had once been.

"Enjoy the show?" not-Bree asked while grinning too widely. Her voice was cheerful, with just a hint of malice and sadistic pleasure.

"Voldemort really is back, isn't he?" Michaels asked. Not-Bree laughed. It was high, cold, and crazed.

"He never really left you know. Spent some time sharing headspace with Professor Qurril. Don't know where he was before that, maybe timesharing in Bermuda." Not-Bree said. "Since you work for the ministry and all I wouldn't advise spreading the news around, otherwise it would be… Off with your head." Not-Bree demonstrated he point by grabbing her head by the hair and removing it from her body.

"That reminds me, it's time for you to meet the queens." Not-Bree then took her free hand and shoved Michaels. He found himself falling. He looked up and saw not-Bree waving before the crack snapped shut.

Line line line

Michaels landed on a chess board, a giant chess board with pieces as tall as he was, but it was chessboard none the less. On one side were red pieces, on the other side there were… more red pieces. The two sides could be told apart, however, because they were different shades of red. One side had pieces that were an eye-watering shade of bright red and the other pieces were a dark shade of bloody red. Michaels took a closer look and realized that they weren't pieces, but people! He recognized some of the people.

The Queen of the bright red pieces was Umbridge. She was wearing a frilly gown decorated with hearts and there was a "Q" embroidered on her chest. The king was Fudge dressed in the gaudy attire of a medieval king with a "K" on his chest. The bishops had "J"'s, the knights had "10"'s, the rooks had "9"'sand the pawns had "2"'s.

The blood red pieces were dressed in armor, except for the Queen, which was Bree herself, dressed in an outfit similar to her Smith academy uniform with some changes. Her skirt stopped right at the knee, her boots had an extra two inches of height and had traded laces for nine buckled straps. Her fishnet gloves now extended well past the elbow and disappeared beneath the sleeves that covered her shoulders. Instead of a button up shirt there was a corset top with puffed sleeves that covered her shoulders. Her cadet cap had been replaced by black crown and her gold skull ring had been exchanged for a black one with ruby eyes.

Then Michaels realized that Bree wasn't on the board, she was directing the movement of the pieces. The queen on the board was a tall, regal woman dress in blood red armor. Michaels knew from the file that he had barely got a look at before being taken to Hogwarts that this was Bree's Aunt Lisa. Michaels wasn't sure how he had missed the woman since she was standing protectively in front of Bree, but still on the board.

Off to the side of the board where the Blood red army's captives resided was a bright red pawn that looked like Michaels himself. This confused Michaels, he had known that Bree didn't have a high regard for him since he was working for the Ministry, but why did she believe that she had captured him? And just and confusing why where there three red queens?

"I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion-a blind and aimless Fury. The Red Queen I pictured as a Fury, but of another type; her passion must be cold and calm - she must be formal and strict, yet not unkindly; pedantic to the 10th degree, the concentrated essence of all governesses!" a voice said from behind him. Michaels turned and found not-Bree who had reattached her head at some point and grown a set of cat ears and a tail striped with a purplish gray color along with a shade of blond that matched not-Bree's hair.

"Lewis Carroll." Not-Bree explained. "Umbridge is the Queen of Hearts, not the Red Queen, so really there two Red Queens, not three."

"That doesn't explain why there are two." Michaels stated.

"In a monarchy, the Queen has the most power when there is no King. On a chess board, the most powerful piece is the Queen. Aunt Lisa is our most powerful ally and we have no king to rule with us." Not-Bree replied.

"I see… So why am I a prisoner in this… game?" Michaels asked. Not-Bree grinned, her tail twitched excitedly, her ears twitched and a gleam of something sadistic flashed in her eyes.

"Because that's what you are of course!" Not-Bree exclaimed.

"What!" Michaels shouted.

"Ever heard of the expression "mind like a steel trap"? Well this mind is like a lobster trap. Easy to get into, but you can't get out unless someone releases you." Suddenly not-Bree's excitement disappeared and was replaced by something more sinister and terrifying. Her grin was still in place, but it was far more predatory, and now, looking into not-Bree's eyes he felt as if he was looking into the eyes of a monster. "Better be careful this place doesn't become your own personal pitcher plant. Lures you in, then eats you alive." She whispered darkly. Her expression lightened again and she pranced over to where Red Queen Bree was standing, hugging her briefly before grabbing her hand.

"As long we have a guest, let's put on a good performance and show him exactly what's going to happen to Umbridge!" not-Bree suggested. Red Queen Bree nodded and not-Bree turned around to face Michaels.

"Get off the battlefield unless you want to end up brain dead!" she called to him. Michaels quickly moved off the board and stood next to his pawn self. The game began. The Red Queens' pawns, among which were Rita Skeeter and Percy Weasley, dispatched most of Umbridge's pawns, a rook, and a bishop. Bree's rooks, bishops, and knights took care of Umbridge's remaining rook, bishop, pawns, and the knights. The combined forces of Red Queen Lisa, Pawn Rita, and Pawn Percy crushed Fudge.

While all this was happening Umbridge's throne grew high and higher and she seemed oblivious to what was going on below her, apparently she thought she was winning so she was greatly surprised when the Red Queens' forces toppled her throne and sent her falling to the ground. When she landed her body shattered to pieces that were carried off by crows.

"The higher you climb, the harder you fall." Red Queen Bree stated.

"What makes you so sure you will have the power to defeat Umbridge?" Michaels asked ask he approached Red Queen Bree and not-Bree as the pieces returned to their spots on the board.

"If I told you that I'd have to kill you." Red Queen Bree stated.

"That reminds me, you can't tell anyone what you saw here, you just have to declare us sane… or else." Not-Bree said.

"Do you really have the power to back up that threat?" Michaels inquired.

"Have you ever been targeted by the mob?" Red Queen Lisa asked. Michaels blinked at the seemingly random question.

"No." he answered.

"Keep it up with the questions and you soon will be." Red Queen Lisa stated coolly.

"There is another reason Aunt Lisa is a Queen, but I'm not going to tell you." Not-Bree stated. "Now I suppose you still want to see the memories that aren't." Both of the Red Queens frowned at that.

"Yes, of course." Michaels replied.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Red Queen Lisa asked.

"Absolutely not!" Not-Bree exclaimed enthusiastically. "But it will be fun!"

"Those memories are dangerous. They will burn you up if you're not careful." Red Queen Bree stated.

"I know. That's what makes it fun!" not-Bree exclaimed, she suddenly became more serious. "Besides, it's the best way to explain how the red paths got here."

"Come on then Michaels." She said, grabbing Michaels arm and leading him down a natural path.

"Be careful." The Red Queens advised.

* * *

They had been walking for some time through a forest that was steadily growing darker.

"Where are you leading me?" Michaels asked after a long period of silence.

"To the hidden part of our mind, where the things we hide from our self lurk. The fears we can't face, the nightmares that haunt us, and the memories we avoid." Not-Bree explained.

"I thought all of that was contained within the graveyard." Michaels stated.

"No. The Canyon of Graves is full of the bad things that make us stronger. They were horrible to live through, but the experience made us who we are. What's up ahead could have unmade and ended us, and they could still drive us to the edge if we look too closely." Not-Bree replied somberly. Something rustled in the underbrush.

"What was that?" Michaels asked.

"It was just a nightmare. Stay on the path and you will be fine." Not-Bree assured him.

Eventually they came to clearing. There was a blue police box in the middle of it. Not-Bree opened the door and shoved Michaels inside. It was bigger on the inside. Michaels wasn't really surprised. The room they were in looked like the control room of the eleventh Doctor's TARDIS except that the TARDIS core now seemed to serve as a giant test tube that contained a creature that looked like a cross between a tape worm and a centipede. It was a psychic worm, or larger-than-life mock up at any rate, a real one would be much smaller.

"Touch it." Not-Bree commanded.

"What!" Michaels exclaimed, startled.

"Just do it. It will make things easier in the long run." Not-Bree stated.

Michaels hesitantly touched the tube that contained the worm and was pulled into a memory.

_He found himself in a stark white hospital room. A younger Bree was lying in a hospital be. Two men and a red haired woman were next to her. One of the men was explaining something to Bree._

"_You were infected by a psychic worm. It probably infected you when she was a small child and the neuronal pathways in your brain were still forming. It hacked into your brain arranged the pathways so that your mind could accept and store information beyond what the human mind is normally capable of. Usually that would result in a genius but the worm created a block so that you would only learn what was expected of an average human, that way it could regulate what's in your head. Then the worm used a psychic field to pull visions from the past, present, and future and forced you remember them so that it could feed off of the energy it took to store the new memories._ _The worm has a defense system. In your time abnormalities like that can be easily detected, so what happens when the worm is detected? The worm extends its psychic field to modify the memories of the doctors and nurses and anyone else who might know, and then it modifies its host's memories." He explained._

"_We had to bring you here to have the worm removed before the information overload started to kill you."_

The memory ended and Michaels was back in the TARDIS.

"And that's where the memories that aren't are from." Not-Bree stated.

"So… are you like a seer now?" Michaels asked.

"No. There is a block in place, that golden wall, it keep new memories that aren't from coming in. If it wasn't there our mind would overload and burn up and we would die. The memories that were already here were dulled down and made difficult to access; well most of them were anyway. Knowledge of the future is dangerous, and trying to change terrible events that we're not supposed to play a part in could have consumed us and driven us insane." Not-Bree explained before breaking into grin. "Do you still want to see them? I could show you Pompeii on Volcano day or the earth on the day that it is burned up by an expanding sun. I could show you planet so close to its sun that the radiation would burn up any living thing in less than a second, but it's made out of diamonds and is so beautiful to look at. I could show you things that would change your view of the world forever, truths that you would never be able to un-see." Not-Bree voice became more demented the more she spoke.

"That's alright. You're right about those memories being dangerous. I'm done here." Michaels replied. Not-Bree went back to normal.

"Alright, if your done then get out." She said. Michaels was suddenly forced out of Bree's mind.

He found himself right where he had started, sitting across from Bree in Madam Pomfrey's office.

"You know you can't tell anyone about what you saw there." Bree stated.

"I don't think anyone would believe me. In fact, I'd probably end up getting and evaluation myself." Michaels answered.

Michaels then signed some papers declaring Bree sane and not at all a danger to anyone in the school.

At dinner Bree danced up to the head table while humming "When the Saints Go Marching In." She shoved the papers long enough for Umbridge to read that Bree was sane.

"How is that possible?" the toad muttered. Bree then proceeded to march around the Great Hall while showing off her papers.

"Yeah _she's_ sane." Draco said sarcastically.

After dinner Bree led her housemates in a parade up to the common room, this time with music (Who knew that Seamus could play the trumpet?) and singing. Once they got to the common room there was of course, a party.

* * *

619. Not allowed to tell the psychological evaluator that he needs to find a real job.

620. Not allowed to parade around the school when I pass my psychological evaluation.

* * *

**And that is the end of a completely original chapter, no dialog taken from the books at all. **

**The Not-Bree is kind of meant to be a combination of Bree's Id and her animagus form. She did help Michaels, but still regarded him as more of a plaything and a tool.**

**Bree's mind is of course, based off of Wonderland. The names of the locations that appear are, in order of appearance, The Beginning Pathways, The Canyon of Graves, The Chessboard Battlefield, The Forest of Nightmares, and the Not-TARDIS.**

**Review please.**


	53. Year 5: A Study Group, but not really

**New Story "Bree's Cliched Experience" is up. Go check it out.**

* * *

In retrospect, letting someone into her mind had been a terrible idea. Sure, she had been declared sane, but there had been repercussions.

For the past few months Bree hadn't thought about what had happened in the graveyard because the incident at the monastery had lasted much longer and had brought her much closer to death which made it the thing to fear instead of the fight with Voldemort. It made the madman seem less important, especially with all the information about bigger threats that Bree had floating around in her head; Sontarans, Daleks, and whole menagerie of other alien species that threatened the safety of the human race just about every other week. Then Umbridge showed up and since Voldemort and been inactive and Bree had focused on the immediate threat.

Umbridge was her current opponent, but she was still just a piece on the board! Bree had forgotten who was controlling the opposing side. Michaels trek into her the depths of her mind had stirred up her subconscious which had decided that Bree needed to be reminded that Voldemort would be a lot harder to take down than the puppet government. Unfortunately she wouldn't be able to think about this until she woke of from the nightmare she was experiencing.

You see, when not-Bree had led Michaels into The Forest of Nightmares which stirred up the residents of said forest and caused her nightmares to combine into a singular horror. Voldemort's face on ganger Jen's twisted form, the crumbling monastery combined with the graveyard, the vat of flesh goo combined with the caldron that had been used for Voldemort's resurrection, and the memory of pain inflicted by the Cruciatus curse paired with the terror of running for her life.

Bree woke up suddenly. She could feel Hogwarts wrapped around her trying to provide comfort. Bree took in a shaky breathe.

"_Voldemort is going to __**kill **__me!_" she thought hysterically. She spent an hour trying to even out her breathing while berating herself for being so stupid. Sure, it would be easy to take down Umbridge, but those tactics wouldn't work on Voldemort. She couldn't intimidate him, she didn't have a spy in his forces, and she was not strong enough to fight him head on. She needed to learn how to defend herself and she needed a place to practice.

* * *

"She had another nightmare last night." Hermione was saying as Bree dozed at the breakfast table.

"Did she have any before last night?" Fred asked.

"She hadn't had any since we got to school." Hermione answered.

"That Michaels guy must have done something to set her off." George said. Bree face-planted into her eggs.

Line line line

Bree didn't remember much of what happened that day, she was so tired.

The next day she went to the library to look for defense books and found the shelf empty.

"Perfect." Bree muttered sarcastically.

"What happened to the defense books?" she asked Madam Pince.

"Professor Umbridge decided that they weren't compatible with a "Ministry approved curriculum" and confiscated them." Pince answered.

"That's stupid." Bree said.

"Quite." Madam Pince agreed.

* * *

The next morning Bree was grumpy and tired. Her nightmares were not as bad as they were the first night but it was still interfering with her sleep.

An unfamiliar owl arrived, not at breakfast but at Bree's dorm. It was a package from Uncle Vince and Aunt Lisa. The package was charmed weightless and was bigger on the inside. They had used their contacts to gather some rarer texts. There were books on wards, curses, hexes, shield magic, potions, advanced transfiguration, golems, and hunting (the Winchester variety that is). There were even books devoted to elemental magic of old and some texts on bush magic. Bree was excited, but she needed a place to study where Umbridge wouldn't find the books.

The following Monday, when everyone else was in Umbridge's class, Bree was trying to find an empty classroom to use when she felt something tugging at her, and then it was pushing at her and generally guiding her to an unknown destination.

Finally Bree found herself in front of an empty wall. Then there was a door, and behind the door was a room. No, not just a room, the perfect room for what Bree had in mind. There was an area for studying, an area for practicing what she studied, and an area for brewing potions.

"You are the best building, ever, in the history of buildings." Bree told the castle. Hogwarts preened at the praise.

* * *

After a few days of studying by herself, Bree decided that she needed a teacher. There were some things that Bree couldn't practice on her own because it wasn't safe and if she didn't understand it she had to figure it out herself.

Fortunately, since Bree had her own school she could hire her own teachers; it was just a matter of money. Bree wrote a letter to Alice, asking how the 'Cash for Gold' thing was going. Then she wrote a letter to Uncle Vince and Aunt Lisa, asking them to recommend someone to teach her.

* * *

Hermione made no mention of Harry giving Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for two whole weeks after her original suggestion. Bree guessed that this was because she wanted to give him some time to think about it.

Apparently Hermione had brought up the topic again and had gotten Harry to agree because there was to be a meeting at the Hogs Head bar that weekend.

The walk to Hogsmade was strange. It was the same walk as before, but Bree could feel the Hogwaarts clinging to her and slowly being pulled away as Bree got further from the castle. When she arrived in Hogsmade, she could still feel Hogawarts, but it felt like a bad cell-phone connection. It was unsettleing.

The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though it turned out that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows, talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Lavender, Parvati and Padma Patil, Cedric, Cho and one of her friends were already there when Bree arrived. Then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood walked in followed by Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Breerecognized vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. "A couple of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione happily, "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have… twenty-five Butterbeers, please?"

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these…"

"Hi, Harry," said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite him.

Harry tried to smile back, but did not speak. Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look which plainly told him that, given her way, she would not be here at all.

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well - er - hi."

The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.

"Well… erm… well, you know why you're here. Erm… well, Harry here had the idea - I mean" (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) "I had the idea - that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts - and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us -" (Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) "- because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts -" ("Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) "- Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells -"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.

"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defense because… because…" she took a great breath and finished, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

"My god, you all are pathetic. You don't see anyone freaking out when someone mentions Hitler." Bree stated.

Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that totured got killed by You-Know-Who. He didn't give us details, I think we'd all like to know -"

"Pain." Bree interrupted. "It burns, like you're on fire while you're being stabbed over and over in every part of your body by a thousand twisting knives."

No one said anything for a long moment.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to -"

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory.

"Er - you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked.

The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about the investigation about the dementors that attacked you.. So - is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.

The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…"

"Er - yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said "Wow!" softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now.

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philosophy Stone -"

"Philosopher's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that - from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

Hannah Abbott's eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cedric "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year - getting past dragons and merpeople and-"

"We did those things too." Bree reminded him. "But it is rather impressive since he was the youngest and doesn't have my creativity."

"Creativity, she's calls it." Ron muttered.

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table.

"Look," Harry said, and everyone fell silent at once, " I… I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but… I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying…"

"Yeah, well -" said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those Dementors this summer," said Susan Bones.

"No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is -"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Perhaps the word 'weasel' had affected Ron particularly strongly. In any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," he said.

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" enquired George, pulling a long and lethal looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, "moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.

"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week -"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Zacharias Smith.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," aid Hermione, slightly impatiently, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters -"

"Well said!" barked Ernie Macmillan.

"Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!"

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry "Surely not!" When nobody spoke, he went on, "I, personally am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know- Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells -"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some… some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.

"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.

"Yes, he has," said Luna.

"What are Heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.

"They're spirits of fire," said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever, "great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of -"

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione tartly.

"Oh, yes, they do!" said Luna angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.

"There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you -"

"Hem, hem," said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defense lessons?"

"Yes," said Hermione at once, "yes, we were, you're right, Ginny."

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan.

"As long as -" began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Hermione in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet…"

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

"Library?" suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard."

But Harry was pretty certain that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time. For all that Hermione had said about study and homework groups being allowed, he had the distinct feeling that this one might be considered a lot more rebellious.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting."

She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.

"I - I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to."

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but Harry noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

"Er…" said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, "well… I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing, too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I - well, we are prefects," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found… well, I mean to say… you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out -"

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I - yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just -"

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily.

"No. No, of course not," said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. "I - yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Harry saw Cho's friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her own name.

When the last person - Zacharias - had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too.

Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry.

When the last person - Zacharias - had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase; we'll be seeing you all later."

Bree left after them and headed back to the castle. Hogwarts was overjoyed when she set foot in the Great Hall.

She went to the common room, curled up on one of the couches and took a nap.


	54. Year 5: Intercepted

"Boo." Said a voice from behind her. Bree turned and found herself facing someone that looked like her but with claws, slit pupils, pointed canines, cat ears, and a tail.

"You're… me?"

"No, I'm Not-You." The Not-Bree replied.

"Right. We're in my head, aren't we?" Bree asked.

"Our head." Not-Bree replied.

"Right… So I take it you're the one who dealt with Micheals?"

"Yep, that's me." Not-Bree replied, grinning just a bit too wide.

"So... Why am I here?" Bree inquired.

"You've been neglecting your animagus training." Not-Bree said with a pout.

"I've been busy." Bree stated. "And I've never heard of anyone's subconscious reaching out to them because they haven't been learning to become an animagus."

"Well no one else has had a Cheshire Cat for an animagus." Not-Bree replied.

"So you just wanted to tell me to work on my animagus transformation." Bree stated.

"Nope." Not-Bree said cheerily. "Today we're going to work on improving your grin!"

* * *

When Bree woke up awhile later she reflected that it probably wasn't that healthy to be contacted by your own mind for a lesson in animagus transformation. She laughed it off, then grinned, pointed canines glinting in the firelight. So what if she was crazy? Her animagus form was madness incarnate.

She pulled off the fishnet glove on her right hand and examined the back of it. The words "I must not tell lies" stood out against her skin. The scars would never fade for as long as she lived. Umbridge would pay for that. With interest.

* * *

On Monday everyone in Gryffindor was surprised to find that a large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor noticeboard; so large it covered everything else on it. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All student organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An organization, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No student organization, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organization, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

She couldn't have known about the meeting, could she?

Harry was reading the notice through again.

"This isn't a coincidence," he said, his hands forming fists. "She knows."

"She can't," said Ron at once.

"There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust… any of them could have run off and told Umbridge…"

"Zacharias Smith!" said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. "Or - I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too -"

"I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?" Harry said, looking round at the door to the girls' dormitories.

"Let's go and tell her," said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slid. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet.

"Er - I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

"Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

"Me," said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. " I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. "Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed -?"

"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," said Hermione, who had just slid neatly on to a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, "but it says in Hogwarts A History, that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?"

"To see you - look at this!" said Ron, dragging her over to the noticeboard.

Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony.

"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said angrily.

"They can't have done," said Hermione in a low voice.

"You're so naive," said Ron,

"No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione grimly. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

"You did what?" Bree hissed at her.

"Well I had to be sure that-" Hermione began. Bree cut her off.

"What happens to someone who tells?" she asked.

"Well, put it this way" said Hermione, "it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles."

Bree frowned and walked away.

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon them.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

"We're going to do it anyway of course," he said quietly.

Bree smirked.

"Knew you'd say that"' said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

"The prefects as well?" said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course," said Hermione coolly.

"Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, looking over his shoulder. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith… and no one looks very spotty."

Hermione looked alarmed.

"Nevermind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious - sit down!" she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table.

"Later! We'll - talk - to - you - later!"

"I'll tell Michael," said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, "the fool, honestly…"

She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table; Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. Would Umbridge's notice scare her off meeting them again?

But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.

"Harry! Ron!"

It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards them looking perfectly desperate.

"It's okay," said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. "We're still going to -"

"You realize she's including Quidditch in this?" Angelina said over him. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"

"What?" said Harry.

"No way," said Ron, appalled.

"You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry… I am saying this for the last time… please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play anymore!"

"Okay, okay," said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself…"

"Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns's lesson. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet… bet you anything she's there…"

But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Bree doodled in her notes until the sound of something at the window caught her attention. It was Aries perched on the narrow window ledge. Many of Bree's classmates were pointing out Aries to each other.

"That owl has always frightened me." Lavender muttered to Parvati.

Bree got up and opened the window. She noticed that Aries was splattered in blood, especially around his beak and claws. Some of his feathers were bent at odd angles and he was holding his wing funny but he looked oddly triumphant. Bree picked him up and left the classroom. Binns didn't notice a thing.

Bree walked quickly to the staff room. Two stone gargoyles flanked the staff-room door. As Bree approached, one of them croaked, "You should be in class."

"This is important." Bree hissed.

"Ooooh, importantt, is it?" said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. "Well, that's put us in our place, hasn't it?"

Bree knocked. She heard footsteps, then the door opened and she found herself face to face with Professor McGonagall.

"You haven't been given another detention!" she said at once, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly.

"No." Bree answered flatly. Why did people always think that she had done something?

"Well then, why are you out of class?"

"It's important, apparently," said the second gargoyle snidely.

"I'm looking for Professor Grubbly-Plank," Bree explained. "My owl is injured."

"Injured owl, did you say?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared at Professor McGonagall's shoulder, smoking a pipe and holding a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Yes," Bree answered, lifting the arm that Aries, "his wing's is all funny and he's covered in blood."

Professor Grubbly-Plank stuck her pipe firmly between her teeth and took Aries from Bree while Professor McGonagall watched.

"Hmm," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, her pipe waggling slightly as she talked. "Looks like something's attacked her. Can't think what would have done it, though. Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Hagrid's got the Hogwarts Thestrals well-trained not to touch owls."

Professor McGonagall looked sharply at Bree and said, "Do you know how far this owl's traveled, Smith?"

"From London." Bree replied. Uncle Vince would had put the letter to Alice in with the regular post which would then to transferred to the American Magi Post because it was such a long distance.

Professor Grubbly-Plank pulled a monocle out of the inside of her robes and screwed it into her eye, to examine Aries' wing closely. "I should be able to sort this out if you leave him with me, Smith," she said, "he shouldn't be flying long distances for a few days, in any case."

"Right. Um,can I have to letter first?" Bree asked.

It actually turned out to be two letters. Grubbly-Plank handed them over and then disappeared into the staff room carrying Aries. Bree turned to leave but Professor McGonagall called out.

"Smith!"

Yes, Professor?"

She glanced up and down the corridor; there were students coming from both directions.

"Bear in mind," she said quickly and quietly, her eyes on the letters in Bree's hand, "that channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts may be being watched, won't you?"

Bree nodded before allowing herself to be swept out into the courtyard with the crowd. She found a secluded corner and opened to letters. The first was from Uncle Vince. It contained two words:

Sending Ben.

The other letter was from Alice.

C4G going well. I'll send over some of the profit next week.

* * *

Potions started off with Neville attacking Draco. The ferret-boy had said something that set Neville off but Bree was more concerned with the fact that Umbridge was sitting in a corner of the potions classroom holding a clipboard. Her hands and face were covered in bandages. When Umbridge glanced at her Bree grinned with sharpened canines then quickly set then back to human sharpness as the toad woman did a double take.

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner.

Eventually Umbridge got to her feet. "Ha," he said softly, as she strode between two lines of desks towards Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas's cauldron.

"Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back.

"Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.

"Now… how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," said Snape quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

Snape's lip curled.

"Obviously"

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.

"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers - er - backgrounds."

She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons.

Snape looked round at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber.

"No marks again, then, Potter" said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand.

After assigning Harry an essay, he walked over to Bree's potion, which was now bright magenta and giving off hot pink smoke. Snape stared at it for a moment.

"None of the ingredients on this table could have produced this kind of reaction." He said after a long moment.

"Yeah, it was my blood that did that." Bree stated. Snape look up and stared at her. There was a trail of blood running down her upper lip.

"I was thinking about drawing some runes on my arms when some of the blood dripped into the potion and turned it and interesting color, so I added more." She explained. What she didn't say was that she had added more after activating her partial animagus transformation that gave her sharper teeth and a set of claws to see if that would change the nature of her blood and then in turn change the potion even further. Bree was rather curious about the magical properties of Cheshire cat blood.

Snape squeezed his eyes shut, covered his face with his hand and said "Go to the hospital wing, Smith."

He vanished the potion after Bree left. It wasn't until much later that he realized that human blood shouldn't have reacted that way. He pulled out a bottle of fire-whiskey and began drinking away that bit of information. Whatever bree was he didn't want to know, especially if there were more of them

* * *

91. If I get a nosebleed in class I am to go to the hospital wing, not use the blood to draw runes on my arms, or use it as a potion ingredient.

* * *

Bree missed part of divination because the bleeding just wouldn't stop. When she popped her head out of the trapdoor she saw Trelawney ranting about the establishment and so she silently went back down the ladder.

Bree went to the room that the castle had showed her and, since the next class was defense, stayed there until dinner.

When she finally went down to the Great Hall Ben was sitting at the head table.


	55. Year 5: 1st Meeting

The Great Hall was filled with the buzz of whispering students as they stole glances at Ben and pointed out the new face to each other. After everyone was in the hall, Dumbledore stood up and silenced everyone.

"Now, I'm sure you've all noticed the new face joining us this evening." he began, motioning to Ben. "This is Professor Grimsley. He was hired by the Smith Academy to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts to its students. He is, however, willing to tutor any Hogwarts students that feel they need help with the subject, for a small fee."

Umbridge had turned red in anger and couldn't seem to decide between glaring at Ben or at Bree. Bree grinned at her with sharp canines then reverted back to human teeth as Umbridge did a double-take. Snape saw this and from then on made a point of not looking at Bree.

* * *

Bree's first lesson with Ben started with the man taking her boots and adding steel toes and hidden pockets for iron, salt, silver, and vials of holy water. It was less "Defense Against the Dark Arts" and more of a crash course in hunting, with magic. Later they would move on to other things, like aliens and humans that acted like monsters, but for now they were just going to focus on one thing at a time while trying to cover each subject as quickly as possible because they didn't know for sure how long they had until Voldemort made his move.

All of Ben's lessons were conducted in the room that Hogwarts had showed Bree since the room would become anything you wanted. It became place to spar, a track for running laps (running was very, very important), a library stocked with a copy of every book that had ever been inside Hogwarts (exculding the ones Ben had brought with him since they were already in the room), and a shooting range for target practice (magic that is, Bree wouldn't learn how to use a gun until later). The only homework Ben had given Bree was a book by David Rossi that she was to read until she memorized it.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team finally got permission to reform so practice was back on. Fred and George weren't exactly happy with this, but then again their latest test batch of fever fudge had left them with massive pus-filled boils on a place they generally didn't display to the public. And that's why Bree avoided testing things, it was never pleasant.

* * *

While the Gryffindor Quiddicth team was practicing, Bree was debating whether or not to tell Harry about the room that could turn into anything. On one hand, Harry did need it for the defense group, but on the other hand, Bree found it first and she didn't want to share damn it!

It was Hogwarts that decided for her, giving her a nudge when Harry walked into the common room with Ron after Qudditch practice. Bree didn't respond to the nudge and continued reading the book by David Rossi.

Harry and Ron sat down to study and Hogwarts gave Bree another nudge. Bree pulled her book closer to her face.

Hogwarts continued nudgeing and Bree contiuned ignoring it until her book was inches from her nose. Finally after Ron had gone to bed Hogwarts gave Bree a hard shove, knocking her to the floor. Harry, who had been drifting off, was startled.

"Er… are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine. I just decided that now would be a good time to get acquaintted with the floor." Bree stated. She rolled over so that she was on her back looking up at Harry.

"We never think about them do we? The floors. But imagine if there were no floors one day. We'd notice then." Bree said. Harry loooked utterly confused.

"Uh… yeah I guess." He said.

"Do you want to see where you can teach Defense?" Bree inquired ubruptly.

"What?" Harry asked, taken aback by the sudden change in subject.

"Do. You. Want. To. See. Where. You. Can. Teach. Defense." Bree repeated, making sure each word was clear.

"Now?" Harry questioned.

"Now." Bree repeated. "We could go tomorrow but I'll have probably changedmy mind by then and won't want to share anymore."

"Er… well alright I just need to get something." He said before heading to the boys dorm. He paused at the door. "You know you'll have to get off the floor." He said. Bree just sighed.

* * *

The "something" Harry had to get turned out to be an Invisibility Cloak. Bree and Harry had to stand close together and were awkwardly bumping shoulders all the way to the seventh floor. When they got to the room was spacious and lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments.

"This is where Ben has been teaching me defense."Bree explained. "Well sort of." She added as she flopped onto the cushions.

"What do you mean "sort of"?" Harry asked.

"Well the room becomes whatever you want it be. Whatever you need. It could be a shooting range if you want to practice your aim, a library if you want to read, a track if you feel like running laps-"

"And if you really needed a bathroom," said Harry, suddenly remembering something, "would it fill itself with chamber pots?"

"Probably." Bree answered.

There was a sudden popping noise that caused Harry to jump and Bree to sit up in surprise.

"Dobby has your owl, ma'am!" said a squeaky voice.

"Dobby?" said Harry.

Dobby the house-elf was standing next to a bookshelf. His large, pointed ears were now sticking out from beneath what looked like all the hats Hermione had ever knitted; he was wearing one on top of the other, so that his head seemed elongated by two or three feet, and on the very topmost bobble sat Aries, hooting serenely and obviously cured.

"Dobby volunteered to return Miss Bree's owl," said the elf squeakily, with a look of positive adoration on his face, "Professor Grubbly-Plank says he is all well now, ma'am." He sank into a deep bow so that his pencil-like nose brushed floor and Aries gave an indignant hoot and fluttered over to where Bree was and settled onto a cushion

Bree stroked Aries' head and surveyed Dobby more closely. The elf was also wearing several scarves and innumerable socks, so that his feet looked far too big for his body.

"Er… have you been taking all the clothes Hermione's been leaving out?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, sir," said Dobby happily. "Dobby has been taking some for Winky, too, sir."

"Yeah, how is Winky?" asked Harry.

Dobby's ears drooped slightly.

"Winky is still drinking lots, sir," he said sadly, his enormous round green eyes, large as tennis balls, downcast. "She still does not care for clothes, Harry Potter. Nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Gryffindor Tower any more, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere, they finds them insulting, sir. Dobby does it all himself, sir, but Dobby does not mind, sir, for he always hopes to meet Harry Potter and tonight, sir, he has got his wish!" Dobby sank into a deep bow again.

"But Dobby did not expect to find Harry Potter in the Come and Go room." Dobby went on, straightening up again.

"Come and Go room?" Harry echoed.

Dobby nodded. "That's what we house-elves call it or else as the Room of Requirement!"

"How many people know about it?" Harry inquired.

"Very few, sir. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir." Dobby replied.

"It's perfect." Harry stated.

* * *

Their robes billowed and swirled around them as they splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology, where they could hardly hear what Professor Sprout was saying over the hammering of raindrops hard as hailstones on the greenhouse roof. The afternoons Care of Magical Creatures lesson was to be relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor and, to their intense relief, Angelina had sought out her team at lunch to tell them that Quidditch practice was cancelled.

"Good," said Harry quietly, when she told him, "because we've found somewhere to have our first Defense meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls. Can you tell Katie and Alicia?" She looked slightly taken aback but promised to tell the others.

At half past seven Bree, Harry, Ron and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, Harry clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand. Fifth-years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but all Harry, Ron, and Hermione kept looking around nervously as they made their way along the seventh floor.

Bree rolled her eyes and strode confidently down the hall, while Harry pulled out the Marauders map.

"Amateurs." Bree muttered. She got to the Room of Requirement first.

"These will be good when we're practicing Stunning," said Ron enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot after he, Harry, and Hermione arrived.

"And just look at these books!" said Hermione excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. "A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions… The Dark Arts Outsmarted… Self-Defensive Spellwork… wow…" She looked around at Harry, her face glowing, and he saw that the presence of hundreds of books had finally convinced Hermione that what they were doing was right.

"Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!"

And without further ado she slid 'Jinxes for the Jinxed' from its shelf, sank on to the nearest cushion and began to read.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Harry looked round. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and Dean had arrived.

"Whoa," said Dean, staring around, impressed. "What is this place?"

Harry began to explain, but before he had finished more people had arrived and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him. Hermione carefully marked her page of 'Jinxes for the Jinxed' and set the book aside.

"Well," said Harry, slightly nervously. "This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've - er - obviously found it okay."

"It's fantastic!" said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement.

"It's bizarre," said Fred, frowning around at it. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then."

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

"Dark detectors," said Harry, stepping between the cushions to reach them. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled…"

He gazed for a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognizable. He turned his back on it.

"Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and - er -" He noticed a raised hand. "What, Hermione?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader," said Hermione.

"I thought Harry was leader." Said Cedric.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," said Hermione, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So - everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Everybody put up their hand, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very half-heartedly.

"Er - right, thanks," said Harry, who could feel his face burning. "And -what, Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," she said brightly, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" said Angelina hopefully.

"Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" suggested Fred.

"I was thinking," said Hermione, frowning at Fred, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defense Association?" said Cho. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," said Ginny. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

Bree felt like throwing up. The unquestioning loyalty to Dumbledore was sickening.

"After everything he's done you _still_ want to name the group after him?" Bree hissed.

"Sure he's made some mistakes, but he's still a great wizard." Ginny argued.

"Some mistakes? He's ruined lives! Not only did he leave Harry on the doorstep of an abusive household, when he was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot he did absolutely _nothing_ to see that Sirius Black got a trial and an innocent man went to Azkaban for twelve years. And you want to honor this man?" Bree sneered.

"So what, you're going to side with the Death Eaters now?" Ginny shout, face flushed red in anger. Well if that wasn't a massive leap in logic.

"No, see you don't get it. No one gets it. It's not as clear cut as side one versus side two, light versus dark, black versus white, there are shades of gray in between. Voldemort is a snake faced bastard who hurt me, Dumbledore is a manipulative old coot who has hurt people I care about so I'll be taking door number three thanks." Bree responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Right, so we'll be the D.A for defense association." Hermione said, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"All in favor of the D.A.?" said Hermione bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count. "That's a majority - motion passed!"

She pinned the piece of parchment with all of their signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters: DEFENSE ASSOCIATION.

"Right," said Harry, when she had sat down again, "shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful -"

"Oh, please," said Zacharias Smith, rolling his eye s and folding his arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I'd rather he not have a weapon if I had to face him again. Wouldn't you?" Bree questioned.

Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet.

"Okay," said Harry, "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

Everybody got to their feet at once and divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partner less.

"You can practice with me," Harry told him. "Right-on the count of three, then-one, two, three-"

The room was suddenly full of shouts of Expelliarmus. Wands flew in all directions; missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Harry was too quick for Neville, whose wand went spinning out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which Harry retrieved it with a Summoning Charm.

Harry had been right to suggest they practice the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on; many people were not succeeding in disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backwards a few paces or wince as their feeble spell whooshed over them.

"Expelliarmus!" said Neville, and Harry, caught unawares, felt his wand fly out of his hand.

"I DID IT!" said Neville gleefully. "I've never done it before - I DID IT!"

"Good one!" said Harry encouragingly, deciding not to point out that in a real duel Neville's opponent was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with his wand held loosely at his side.

"Listen, Neville, can you take it in turns to practice with Ron and Hermione for a couple of minutes so I can walk around and see how the rest are doing?"

Harry moved off into the middle of the room. Something very odd was happening to Zacharias Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. Harry did not have to look far to solve the mystery: Fred and George were several feet from Smith and taking it in turns to point their wands at his back.

"Sorry, Harry" said George hastily, when Harry caught his eye. "Couldn't resist."

Harry walked around the other pairs, trying to correct those who were doing the spell wrong.

Ginny was teamed with Michael Corner; she was doing very well, whereas Michael was either very bad or unwilling to jinx her.

Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get in under his guard; the Creevey brothers were enthusiastic but erratic and mainly responsible for all the books leaping off the shelves around them; Luna Lovegood was similarly patchy, occasionally sending Justin Finch-Fletchley's wand spinning out of his hand, at other times merely causing his hair to stand on end.

Cedric and Cho seemed evenly matched and Bree kept knocking Marietta's wand out of her hand before the other girl could utter a word.

"Okay, stop!" Harry shouted. "Stop! STOP!"

I need a whistle, he thought, and immediately spotted one lying on top of the nearest row of books. He caught it up and blew hard. Everyone lowered their wands.

"That wasn't bad," said Harry, "but there's definite room for improvement." Zacharias Smith glared at him. "Let's try again."

He moved off around the room again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione called from the other end of the room after an hour had passed, "have you checked the time?"

He looked down at his watch and was shocked to see it was already ten past nine, which meant they needed to get back to their common rooms immediately or risk being caught and punished by Filch for being out of bounds. He blew his whistle; everybody stopped shouting "Expelliarmus" and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor.

"Well, that was pretty good," said Harry, "but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!' said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

Angelina, however, said quickly. "The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices too!"

"Let's say next Wednesday night, then," said Harry, "we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we'd better get going."

He pulled out the Marauder's Map again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. He let them all leave in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots anxiously to see that they returned safely to their dormitories: the Hufflepuffs to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens; the Ravenclaws to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Gryffindors along the corridor to the Fat Lady's portrait.


	56. Year 5: Snape in a bottle

**The other night I dreamed the Fred and George took my right kidney. For some reason the incision went from my right shoulder to my left hip. And then I was playing an edition of Kingdom Hearts that does not exist. And then I was in Kingdom Hearts and I had to be careful not to rip open the stiches from my kidney removal. I woke up and I'm having pains vaguely in the vicinity of my right kidney. It's probably just a normal pain from sleeping in an odd position, which I often do, but just in case, be on the lookout for kidney stealing wizards.**

* * *

Bree was lounging in an elaborate throne in the Room of Requirement, her legs were thrown over one of the arms her back leaning against the other. The day before she had sent the house elves a fruit basket and an apology stating that Hermione's actions did not reflect the feelings of the rest of Gryffindor. The house elves made the fruit basket into a fruit salad which Bree was enjoying when Ben walked in.

He took one look at what Bree was sitting on and sighed. It seemed that Bree had an ego just as big as her Aunt's if the throne was any indication. Fortunately he was well versed in ignoring the eccentricities of his employer.

"Hey Ben!" Bree exclaimed. "What's the news from the home front?"

"Reports from ministry insiders show that Volemort and his lackeys are trying to obtain something from the Department of Mysteries. Reports from the men we have watching the Order of the Phoenix indicate that they are aware of the Death Eaters' actions and it is speculated that they may know what the Death Eaters are after." Ben told her.

"We need an insider in the Order." Bree stated.

"Yes, your Aunt already suggested as much, but the current members of the Order are all loyal to Dumbledore and it would be difficult to get someone who wasn't previously in the order, or at least related to someone in the order, into the old man's circle of trust in the timeframe we need." Ben explained.

Bree snorted in distain. "All you have to do is get Sirius on our side."

Ben looked incredulous. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

"Emotional manipulation." Bree stated, grinning. "He loves Harry. Just tell him all the danger Harry has been in under Dumbledore's watch, exaggerate a little, be sure to mention the Dursley's, bring up the years spent in Azakaban, and you should, at the very least, manage to undermine his faith in Dumbledore ."

Ben didn't mention this, but Lisa had already come up with basically the same idea. Presenting the dilemma to Bree had just been a test.

"I'll make sure to tell you Aunt and Uncle." He said.

Line line line

Bree removed History of Magic from her school's curriculum, not that Binns even noticed when she stopped showing up. Reading textbooks was way more interesting then listening to the ghost drone on and on, plus it freed up more time for defense.

Currently, Ben was quizzing Bree on the different ways to fight dangerous creatures as Bree tried to hit moving targets with spells.

"Wendigo."

"Fire"

"Arachnes"

"Beheading."

"Fairies."

"Iron and silver."

"Wraith."

"Silver."

"Changeling."

"Fire."

"Demon."

"Salt, Holy Water, exorcism, uh… Devil's Trap, and uh… that Holy wood stuff."

"It's called Palo Santo. Rugarus."

And so it continued that way for the rest of the lesson.

The next day Bree went up to the boys dorms and took Harry's cloak. She put it on and walked around until she found Draco. She came up behind him and whispered in his ear "Seven Days." Draco jumped and whirled around to see what was behind him. Of course he didn't see anything. He paled and ran.

Bree giggled as she walked back to the common room which caused her to be caught by McGonagall who made her write lines.

* * *

218. Not allowed to steal Harry's invisibility cloak and whisper "Seven Days" to Draco.

* * *

The next day Bree did the same thing only she whispered "Six Days" to Draco who went running to Snape. Snape found Bree laughing under the cloak. He stared at her for a moment before taking a swig from a flask he was carrying and turning her over to McGonagall.

* * *

- not allowed to whisper anything to Draco.

* * *

During the fourth meeting of the D.A. Hermione gave out fake Galleons.

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding one up for examination The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

A blank silence greeted Hermione's words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.

"Well - I thought it was a good idea," she said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But… well, if you don't want to use them -"

"You can do a Protean Charm?" said Terry Boot.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"But that's… that's NEWT standard, that is," he said weakly.

"Oh," said Hermione, trying to look modest. "Oh… well… yes, I suppose it is."

* * *

Snape had taken to carrying a flask of liquor around with him everywhere he went. Not that anyone actually knew what was in it. Whenever the potions professor saw Bree he would take a sip from the flask, two if she was grinning.

There was at least one benefit of Snape's new alcoholic tendencies. He was actually a better teacher. He actually instructed instead of just writing things and the chalkboard, when someone made a mistake he didn't completely humiliate them, and when Harry made a mistake Snape didn't vanish potion and give Harry a zero for the day.

* * *

D.A. meetings were put on hold as the first game of the Quidditch season approached. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. Professor McGonagall cared a lot about beating Slytherin and proved it when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match.

Snape was no less obviously partisan; he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.

As October shifted to November the temperature dropped. Bree switched out her fishnet tights for wool ones with skulls on them, her fingerless fishnet gloves became fingerless wool gloves that disappeared beneath the now three quarter length sleeves of her shirt. She added a Gryffindor scarf and heavy cloak to the outfit and the rest of her clothing all had a liberal amount of warming charms on them. The warming charms made all the difference and allowed the California born blond move through the castle in comfort while everyone else practically froze to death.

The morning of the Quidditch match was bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of exited chatter in anticipation of the day's game. The Slytherins were all wearing silver badges shaped like crowns with the words "Weasley is our King" printed on them in addition to their usual winter gear and there was an increase in noise when Harry and Ron walked by. In the commotion the mail came without much notice, which was to Bree's benefit because Alice had sent her a sack of galleons, part of the profit from the "Infinite Money Glitch." Bree went back to her dorm and put the sack under her bed before going to the game.

Luna had somehow gotten a large hat that looked like life size lion's head that would let out a loudly realistic roar. Naturally no one in the stands wanted to sit near Luna for fear of hearing loss. Bree activated her partial animagus transformation, changing only her eyes because she found it was much easier to track movement that way.

The game started and so did Lee's commentary.

"And it's Johnson - Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me -"

JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"- just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest - and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch - been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe… Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and - nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away - dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger - close call, Alicia - and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

"Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, That's why Slytherins all sing: Weasley is our King."

"Weasley was born in a bin He always lets the Quaffle in Weasley will make sure we win Weasley is our King."

"—and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, trying to drown out the singing. Bree got up and left the Gryffindor section of the stands. She walked underneath the seats. Lee's voice till loud and clear.

"- and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead -"

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands:

"Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring…"

"- so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team -come on, Ron!"

But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins' end. Ron had missed.

"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, "so that's ten-nil to Slytherin - bad luck, Ron."

The Slytherins sang even louder:

"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN, HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…"

Bree was angry. The claws were out, literally. She had taken her transformation as far as it could go. She arrived at her destination, the teacher's box. She found Snape sitting by himself in the topmost part of the stands.

"Snape." Bree called from beneath the stands. The potions professor stiffened up.

"Snape." She called again. The man looked down into the shadows and saw only blue catlike eyes and an eerie grin with pointed canine teeth.

"Do something about your students or I will." She hissed before vanishing into the shadows. Snape took a sip from his flask before heading to the Slytherin stands. The singing soon stopped and Bree returned to her seat. In the final moments of the game Harry and Draco were diving for the snitch. Feet from the ground Harry reached out and grabbed the snitch seconds before Malfoy could.

Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval. Crabbe, who was now one of the new Slytherin beaters, got angry and hit a bludger at Harry that slammed into his back, knocking him off the broom.

Luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. Madam Hooch's shrill whistle joined the sounds of the uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering.

Bree quickly went down to the pitch. By the time she made it down from the stands Harry was holding back George and Angelina, Alicia and Katie were keeping Fred from leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Madam Hooch was still berating Crabbe for his illegal bludger attack.

"Or perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasleys pigsty reminds you of it —"

Harry let go of George and they were both sprinting towards Malfoy. Harry landed the first hit and from there he and George proceeded to pummel Malfoy with all of their might.

The air was filled with the sound voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd. Somebody in the vicinity yelled "Impedimenta!" and Harry was knocked over backwards by the force of the spell.

"What do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet. It seemed to have been her who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx; she was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other; her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. "I've never seen behavior like it - back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now."

Harry and George turned on their heels and marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to the other. Snape walked onto the field and helped Malfoy to his feet. Bree made a mental note to have a chat with Malfoy.

* * *

In the common room that evening the Gryffindor Quidditch team received some very bad news. Fred, George, and Harry had all received lifetime bans from Umbridge. In the past this wouldn't have been possible but Educational Decree Number Twenty-five allowed gave the High Inquisitor the power to strip pupils of privileges.

"Banned," said Angelina in a hollow voice. "Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters… what on earth are we going to do?"

"It's just so unfair," said Alicia numbly. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"

"No," said Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."

"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" said Alicia furiously, pummeling her knee with her fist.

"It's not my fault I didn't," said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back."

Harry stared miserably at the dark window. Snow was falling. The Snitch he had caught earlier was now zooming around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though hypnotized and Crookshanks and Muffin were leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it. Bree was sitting silently, plotting.

"I'm going to bed," said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream… maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet…"

She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. And Bree, having finally come up with a plan went up to the dorm a few minutes later.

Bree's knee jerk reaction to the ban had been to have Umbridge killed. After calming down a bit she decided against this course of action, while it would be possible to have Umbridge killed, espeacilly in you consider that one's of her Uncle's men was already in Hogwarts, that would be rather boring and rather troublesome due to the inevitable investigation. No it would be easier, and more entertaining, to make Umbridge as miserable as possible.

Rita had been behaving herself, time to cut her some slack and let her rip people apart with the half-truths and assumptions like she used to do, so long as she stuck to the targets that Bree picked. Currently those targets were Umbridge and Fudge.

Of course, Bree was aiming for a two pronged attack. Rita was only the first part of the attack; the second part would be from Hogwarts itself. After Bree settled into bed that night she reached through the bond she had with Hogwarts and put in a request: Please make Umbridge's life as differcult as possible. Hogwarts agreed, Umbridge was a poor teacher and would still be using blood quills as punishment if it weren't for Bree and Hogwarts did not like anyone that would dare hurt its students.

* * *

The next morning there were two feet of snow on the ground and Bree went out with Fred, George, and Lee to have some fun. They started things off by bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows where Ron and Harry were studying. Ron lost patience rather quickly. "Oy!" bellowed Ron, sticking his head out of the window, "I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window -OUCH!"

Fred had sent a snowball directly into Ron's face. After bewitching snowballs became boring the teamed up for a snowball fight. It was Fred and Lee versus Bree and George. At the end of the fight the warming charms had worn off and her clothes were soaked through, actually everyone's clothes were soaked and they walked shivering but in good spirits back to the castle.

* * *

On Monday there was change at the staff table. Umbridge and Grubbly-Plank weren't there and Hagrid was back, but appeared injured.

Hagrid's return garnered mixed reactions from the students. Some, like Fred, George and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads.

Umbridge showed up towards the end of breakfast, looking frazzled. Bree knew why. Hogwarts could be difficult to navigate at the best of times, what with its moving staircases, fake doors, hidden passages, and trick stairs, but if the castle was working against you with sticky doors that would slam shut on your heels, stair cases that moved in an effort to make you take the longest route possible, and trick stairs that moved around so that you never knew where they were, well then walking thourgh the school could be a nightmare. Of course Umbridge had no idea that the school was working against her, she thought she was just having a bad day.

* * *

Tuesday marked the first lesson Hagrid given all year. Bree expected Umbridge to be there, she wasn't, which really didn't surprise Bree since Hogwarts was conspiring against the toad woman.

"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark."

"What prefers the dark?" Malfoy said sharply to Crabbe and Goyle, a trace of panic in his voice. "What did he say prefers the dark - did you hear?"

"Vampires." Bree hissed as she walked by, laughing when Draco jumped.

"Ready?" said Hagrid cheerfully to the class, half a dead cow slung over his shoulder. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em."

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too.

"Course they're trained," said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder.

"So what happened to your face, then?" demanded Malfoy.

"Mind yer own business!" said Hagrid, angrily. "Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"

He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Bree lead the way, followed by Ron, Hermione, and Harry. They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half a cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face his class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid encouraged. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."

He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of them looked too scared to make a sound.

Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third time and expanded his enormous chest. Bree saw something coming through the black space between two gnarled yew trees.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes was growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness.

It surveyed the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs.

"Why doesn't Hagrid call again?" Ron whispered.

Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. "Now… put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Bree raised her hand.

"Didn't think you'd be able ter, Bree," he said seriously. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An' -"

"Excuse me," said Malfoy in a sneering voice, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Bree understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.

"What's doing it?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree.

"What's eating it?"

"Thestrals," said Hagrid proudly and Hermione gave a soft "Oh!" of comprehension at Harry's shoulder. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows -?"

"But they're really, really unlucky!" interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once -"

"No, no, no," said Hagrid, chuckling, "tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate - an' here's another couple, look -"

Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yen," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Go on then," said Hagrid, beaming at her.

"The only people who can see Thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha's exactly right," said Hagrid solemnly, "ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals -"

"Hem, hem."

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

"Hem, hem."

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow.

"Telling you that I would be inspecting y our lesson?"

"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see - or, I dunno - can you? We're doin' Thestrals today -"

"I'm sorry?" said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"

Hagrid looked a little confused.

"Er - Thestrals!" he said loudly. "Big - er - winged horses, yeh know!"

He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: "Has… to… resort… to… crude… sign… language."

"Well… anyway…" said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, "erm… what was I sayin'?"

"Appears… to… have… poor… short… term… memory," muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come a month early; Hermione, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.

"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the fir st horse to have appeared, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favorite, firs' one born here in the Forest -"

"Are you aware," Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as 'dangerous'?"

Hagrid merely chuckled.

"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them -"

"Shows… signs… of… pleasure… at… idea… of… violence," muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again.

"No - come on!" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. "I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it - but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing - people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"

Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk," she mimed walking (Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) "among the students" (she pointed around at individual members of the class) "and ask them questions." She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.

Bree decided that Rita needed to step up her efforts.

Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. Hermione had tears of fury in her eyes now.

"You hag, you evil hag!" she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. "I know what you're doing, you awful, twisted, vicious -"

"Erm… anyway," said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, "so - Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them…"

"Do you find," said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, "that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?"

Just like Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles.

"No… because… well… it sounds… like grunting a lot of the time."

Bree made the decision to do something about Pansy.

Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer.

"Er… yeah… good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go -"

"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles.

Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville.

"You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?" she said.

Neville nodded.

"Who did you see die?" she asked, her tone indifferent.

"My… my grandad," said Neville.

"And what do you think of them?" she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone.

"Erm," said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. "Well, they're… er… okay…"

"Students… are… too… intimidated… to… admit… they… are… frightened," muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.

"No!" said Neville, looking upset. "No, I'm not scared of them!"

"It's quite all right," said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer. She walked over to Bree.

"Now then Smith, who did you see die?" she asked.

Bree flinched.

"_They're monsters, mistakes. They have to be destroyed."_

_"There's nothing we can do. The acid's reached his heart."_

"Shut up and go away." Bree hissed. Umbridge looked insulted.

"Now see here-" Bree cut her off. "You have no power over me! Now get the hell out of here." She snarled. The toad finally backed off.

"Well, Hagrid," she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive" (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) "the results of your inspection" (she pointed at the clipboard) "in ten days' time." She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of laughter, Hermione actually shaking with fury, Neville looking confused and upset, and Bree quite certain she was going flashbacks/nightmares that evening. She was right.


	57. Year 5: Christmas Clone Confusion

**I've been watching a lot of the show "River Monsters" with Jeremy Wade. It makes me wonder if fish have alien abduction stories…**

* * *

Bree envied Alice. The two of them were almost the same. They had the same childhood memories, the same body, the same face, but Alice had been born from an accident on a day full of chaos and senseless death. Despite her beginnings, Alice had not actually seen anyone die, the closest she had come was hearing Buzzer scream. It wasn't the same as what Bree had experienced.

Alice had only heard death, she hadn't seen it. Bree envied her for that, because being haunted by a dying scream had to be better than haunted by the images of Ganger Buzzer's lifeless body falling to the ground and of acid eating through Jimmy's chest as the life slowly slipped from his body.

* * *

"My, my, someone is having a rough night." Not-Bree said, wearing her usual too wide grin, but it wasn't just her canines that were pointed this time. Every tooth in her mouth had been replaced by a set a pointed teeth that would have been more at home in the mouth of a cat. It gave Not-Bree's grin a more frightening look.

Bree sighed. She had woken up from a nightmare in the middle of the night and moved down to the common room. When she had fallen asleep she had found her strawberry blond other self grinning down and her from on top of a giant daisy. Bree was sitting in the middle of a gigantic spotted mushroom; the surrounding area was full of flowers and blades of grass the size of trees.

Not-Bree jumped down from the daisy and landed on the mushroom, causing Bree to bounce into the air before coming down and landing in roughly the same spot she had been before. Not-Bree bounced to the center of the mushroom and flopped down next to Bree.

"When are we going to have her killed?" Not-Bree asked.

"It'll have to wait 'till she's out of Hogwarts. Less likely to on the suspect list that way." Bree answered.

"I guess, but I really want her to go away." Not-Bree pouted.

"Until then we can make her life hell." Bree said.

* * *

"That cat is taunting me." Dean mumbled to Seamus. It was the morning after Umbridge had inspected Hagrid's lesson. Bree was sleeping on the couch closest to the fire; Muffin was nestled in Bree's cleavage.

"The cat is not taunting you." Seamus replied.

""Yes it is. It knows." Dean said.

Seamus knew he was going to regret it, but he asked anyway. "What does it know?"

"About boobs." Dean said in a way that sounded as if he believed he had just revealed the secret of the universe.

"What?" Seamus asked incredulously.

"Bree has them." Dean replied.

"So to all of the girls in our year." Seamus pointed out.

"They don't have cats that taunt me." Dean growled.

Seamus sighed. Dean's circular logic would get them nowhere.

"Why don't you ask her on a date instead of obsessing over her cat?" Seamus suggested.

"That's brilliant!" Dean exclaimed. "I'll ask her out. Then we'll see who gets the boobs then you stupid cat." He hissed, pointing at Muffin.

"What have I done?" Seamus muttered to himself.

* * *

"I thought she was over this." George said as he watched Bree sleep. After he and Fred and chased Dean and Seamus out of the common room that morning they had woken Bree up and gotten her down to breakfast, Bree had spent the rest of the day dozing off in her classes before stumbling up the common room and crashed on one of the couches.

"Well…" began Hermione, "yesterday Hagrid taught us about thestrals."

"Yeah, we covered them today. Of course we couldn't see them, but…" Fred said.

"Bree could see them." Hermione stated.

"What!" George exclaimed, looking over at Bree in shock.

"But that means that she saw someone…" Fred trailed off.

"Yeah." Said Harry. "Umbridge was inspecting the lesson and she asked Bree who she had seen die and Bree reacted… badly."

"That's an understatement." Ron muttered. "She told Umbridge off and I think she might have actually growled at her."

"So Bree's nightmare must have been about that and not the end of the Tri-wizard tournament." Lee stated.

"Has she said anything to you?" Hermione asked.

"No. She seemed like her old self." George answered.

"It was almost as if last June hadn't happened at all." Fred stated.

Meanwhile, over on the couch Bree was having another nightmare.

_"Stop! Oh! Ah! He's dead!" _

_"We call it "decommissioned."_

_"Oh Percy, it's going to get worse before it gets better."_

_"The acid's eating through."_

_"I'm...sorry. I'm the fake. Adam deserves his real dad."_

"Bree wake up!"

Bree awoke with a gasp.

"Relax, it was just a nightmare, you're safe." George said.

Bree stood up and headed for the girls dorm.

"I'm going to bed." She muttered.

"Bree." Hermione called out. Bree paused and looked back. "We're here for you if you ever want to talk."

"Thanks." Bree said before heading up the stairs.

* * *

The next morning the headline of the daily prophet read "SCANDEL IN THE MINISTRY". It alleged that Umbridge had gotten her position in Hogwarts (that she was completely unqualified for as she knew nothing about education and had showed a hatred of children in the past) was because she was having a "torrid affair" with the Minister. It also suggested that "Perhaps the reason "Professor" Umbridge has her students read from the textbook without giving any actual instruction is because Umbridge herself is incapable of performing any defensive spells."

The article was, of course, written by Rita Skeeter. The students were gossiping about it all through breakfast. When Umbridge read the article, after finally making it to the Great Hall, she was furious and sputtering with indignation. Bree decided to have the article framed.

* * *

About a week later Bree finally got around to talking to Draco.

"Oh Draco." She called out sweetly. Draco tensed up and turned around slowly to find Bree smiling at him. This set him even more on edge.

"What is it Smith?" he asked somewhat shakily.

"I need to talk to you about your performance and of course your houses performance during the last Gryffindor/Slytherin match." Bree answered, her tone still sugary.

"What about it?" Draco inquired

"Well, you seem to have forgotten a very important," Bree began, her tone suddenly dark. "I could kick your ass. I could jack your jaw. Put you flat in the dirt boy. Yeah I'd have a ball. So go ahead and act tough, like your John Wayne's son. But things can change fast. I can kick your ass."

And with that Bree walked away.

* * *

322. Not allowed to sing "I Could Kick Your Ass" by Justin Moore to Draco.

- even I could.

* * *

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ("You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it," said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ("And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year," said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ("He's got dung for brains, that one," said Ron furiously). They were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.

The last D.A. meeting of the year began with the announcement that they weren't going to start anything new because of the holidays.

"We're not doing anything new?" said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come."

We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," said Fred loudly.

Several people sniggered.

"- we can practice in pairs," said Harry. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

They all divided up obediently; Harry partnered Neville as usual.

The room was soon full of intermittent cries of "Impedimenta!" People froze f or a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.

Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron and Hermione again so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. Bree was better than most of the other D.A. members, but, then again, Bree was the only one getting any defense instruction from a competent teacher.

After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practicing Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over.

At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.

"You're getting really good," he said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff - maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a "Happy Christmas" as they went.

* * *

There was a commotion sometime in the night and the next morning all of the Weasley children and Harry were noticeably absent from breakfast. Umbridge was quite unhappy with this. Bree found out later that Mr. Weasley had been attacked and was in the hospital, she had no time to dwell on this because she was soon heading home.

Most of Bree's holiday was to be spent at her grandmother's house, but there were a few days for Uncle Vince to teach her and Alice how to shoot a gun. Alice had come back from Arizona for the holidays. Her skin was darker and her hair was lighter from being out in the sun. Even so her parents' employees would make the mistake of calling her "Bree… er, I mean Alice. Sorry."

Bree' s marksmanship was better than Alice's, not by much, but it was still noticeable. Alice hadn't had to call in a new defense teacher and Lisa and Vince were reluctant to give her the same lessons as Bree because they were trying to let Alice develop as an individual instead just existing as a copy of Bree.

After Bree left for her grandmother's, Alice spent a lot of time with Percy, who was staying with Alice's family over the holiday at Lisa's insistence.

Alice was lounging on a couch in her family's media room (which was really more like a miniature movie theater) while Percy paced up and down the room. It was Christmas Day, Alice's parents, Vince and Lisa (though it was hard to think of them as her parents), had left to visit family and planned to be back in a few hours. Alice hadn't been able to go, for obvious reasons.

"I should go see how he's doing." Percy said.

"Then go." Alice replied.

"But he probably won't want to see me." Percy stated.

"Then don't go." Alice said.

"But he is my father. He could have died thinking that I hated him." Percy said. Alice sighed.

"Go get your coat." She ordered. "We're going out."

"Where are we going?" Percy asked.

"Where do you think?" Alice replied.

* * *

Alice practically had to drag Percy in St. Mungo's. She went up the help desk to ask where was. She glanced at the floor guide as she waited in line.

ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS… Ground floor Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.

CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES… First floor Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.

MAGICAL BUGS… Second floor Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrojungulus, etc.

POTION AND PLANT POISONING… Third floor Rashes, regurgitation (uncontrollable), etc.

SPELL DAMAGE… Fourth floor Unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms, etc.

VISITORS' TEAROOM AND HOSPITAL SHOP… Fifth floor IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOME WITCH WILL BE PLEASED TO HELP.

"We're here to see Arthur Weasley." Alice told the welcome witch when it was her turn.

"Arthur Weasley?" said the witch, running her finger down a long list in front of her. "Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn Ward."

"Thank you." Alice said politely, dragging Percy after her.

When they got to the ward Percy hesitated outside the door.

"What if he doesn't want to see me?"

"Percy-"

"What if he's sleeping? He needs his rest after all."

"Percy. I'm going to the tea room, when you're done visiting your dad come and get me." And with that Alice shoved Percy through the door.

When she got to the tea room she took off the hat and scarf she had been using to hide her face on the off chance that she ran into someone that Bree knew. She ordered a frothy mug of hot chocolate and was sipping on it when Fred, George and their older brother Bill. Fred and George looked surprised but happy to see Alice and they invited themselves and Bill to sit at her table. Alice was mortified.

"Hey Bree!" Greeted George.

"Didn't expect to see you here." Fred stated.

"You remember Bill, right?" George asked.

"Er-well." Alice stuttered.

"We're here to visit dad." Fred explained, not giving Alice time to get a word out.

"We had to get out of there because that git Percy showed up." George said.

"Percy's not-" Alice began to protest, but was once again cut off by Fred. "He said something about how it was Dumbledore's incompetence that got Dad hurt and that really set Mum off."

"So how's your holiday been? I thought you were visiting your grandmother?" George said.

Alice took a sip of her coca before speaking. "Bree is visiting her grandmother. I'm her cousin, Alice. There was an awkward silence. The twins both look horrified and embarrassed while Bill looked amused by the faces his younger brothers were making. Alice just sipped coca and avoided making eye contact with anyone.

* * *

Bree was back for New Year 's Eve.

"How was your Christmas?" Alice asked.

"Larry told all the same stories as usual, Fran complained about the food, the decorations, and everything else and there was almost a repeat of the mashed potato incident." Bree answered.

"So, the same last time" Alice summarized.

"Pretty much." Bree replied.


	58. Year 5: Hey, look a painting

The first day of classes in January was rather uneventful. Umbridge seemed more stressed out then she had been before the break. It turned out that Hogwarts had taken to making the water either too hot or too cold whenever Umbridge attempted to bathe.

According to the notice board the next Hogsmade weekend would be on Valentine's Day. This information sent several of Bree's dorm mates into a fit of girlish giggles. Bree slowly edged away from them.

The members of the D.A. wanted to know when the next meeting would be and kept asking Harry. Harry's answer was always the same.

"I'll let you know in the usual way when the next one is, but I can't do it tonight, I've got to go to - er - remedial Potions."

Yep, all and all it was an uneventful day; at least it was until that evening. Sometime after six o'clock, after Harry had gone down to the dungeons for remedial potions, Bree was in the common room talking to Fred and George. Well, more like Bree was trying to dodge awkward questions about Alice and why Bree had never mentioned that her cousin looked exactly like her.

Bree was halfway through an "It never came up" when pain lanced through her head. The fireplace flared up and all Bree could feel was anger, anger, anger, STOP HURTING HIM! Hogwarts was furious and Bree felt as if her head might explode from the pain. There were tears in her eyes and she was vaguely aware of being led to the hospital wing.

It was hours before Hogwarts had calmed down, but even so Bree could feel the rage beneath the surface.

The next morning everyone who came into the Great Hall was surprised to see that the ceiling didn't reflect the calm blue sky outside. Instead, it was a raging storm with dark clouds and flashes of lightning followed by rumbles of thunder.

This was overshadowed by the headline of the Daily Prophet which read: MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN.

There were ten pictures on the front page. Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett.

Augustus Rookwood, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Bellatrix Lestrange, read the caption under the picture of the only witch, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Well, that wasn't good.

* * *

After Bree left the Great Hall she found herself being urged along in a seemingly random direction by Hogwarts. The last time this had happened Bree had found herself in front of the Room of Requirement so she just went with it.

She found herself in front of a painting of a landscape. The landscape looked like the Hogwarts grounds before the castle had been built. There was a loud creaking as the painting swung open like a door. Bree stepped into the room behind the painting. Torches on the walls lit up and the fireplace burst to life.

The entire room was decorated in red and gold. There was a portrait of Godric Gryffindor above the fireplace.

"Well, it's about time someone found this place." The portrait stated.

"I didn't really find it so much as I was dragged here." Bree replied as she sat down in an armchair in front of the fireplace, sending up a cloud of dust. Bree coughed and tried to wave the dust out of her face.

"Ah, so you must be the one that woke up Hogwarts." Godric said.

"Yeah, it was an accident. I was practicing bush magic on the grounds when I brushed up against it." Bree explained.

"Good to see that someone finally rediscovered the old magic." Godric stated. "Most of the wards have been inactive. They're supposed to be tied to a person in order to be effective."

"Why?" Bree asked.

"Well," Godric began. "Some of the wards are monitoring wards. They tell if students have been harmed, if dark creatures have gotten in, or if someone is trying to attack the castle. There are also security wards that can be activated to deal with a threat, they can't be active all the time or else it would pose a danger to the students and since we can assume that they would be needed in an emergency they are tied to a person so that you do not have to go to one of the keystones to activate them."

"Keystones?" Bree repeated, clueless.

"The stones that all of the wards of Hogwarts are tied to. There are eight of them. Four at each corner of the foundation and one in each of the founders secret rooms for easy access to the wards in case we wanted to add or update some wards." Godric explain.

"How many wards are active now?" Bree inquired.

"I'd say only the very basic ones." Godric replied. "And of course Hogwarts herself. We gave the old girl some sentience so that when we were away she could alert someone if there was an emergency. Of course back then people knew of Hogwarts and of old magic."

"So that's why, whenever I leave the castle, she gets unhappy." Bree said.

"Yes. You are the only one who knows of Hogwarts and of old magic." Godric responded.

"Would there be a way for me to leave the castle, without Hogwarts getting upset?" Bree asked.

"Well, the best way would be to alert someone to the sentience of Hogwarts and teach them old magic, but, in a pinch, I suppose you could take a piece of one of the keystones with you. After a few months it will become an ordinary rock, unless you return it to Hogwarts, but it would allow you to keep tabs on what's happening within the castle." Godric answered.

"Okay. So can I activate the wards and tie them all to me?" Bree questioned.

"You could, but you'd be dead within a minute." Godric explained. "The wards would overwhelm you." He elaborated at Bree's incredulous look.

"The wards work best when tied to four individuals, that's the way we designed them." He said.

"So I need three more people." Bree muttered.

"For full effectiveness, yes, but you could activate a few wards on your own." Godric said.

* * *

The fact that Hagrid was now on probation became common knowledge within the school over the next few days, but hardly anybody appeared to be upset about it; indeed, some people, Draco Malfoy prominent among them, seemed positively gleeful.

There was only one topic of conversation in the corridors now: the ten escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers. Rumors were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they were going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black had once done.

Those who came from wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemorts; the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror were legendary. There were relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors: Susan Bones, whose uncle, aunt and cousins had all died at the hands of one of the ten, said miserably during Herbology that she now had a good idea what it felt like to be Harry.

"And I don't know how you stand it - it's horrible," she said bluntly, dumping far too much dragon manure on her tray of Screechsnap seedlings, causing them to wriggle and squeak in discomfort.

It was not only the students' mood that had changed. It was now quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching. This was because new notices had appeared on the house noticeboards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout:

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-six.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

Of course Ben was exempt from this rule as Umbridge had no authority over the Smith Academy so he was able to tell Bree everything. The Third Option, as Bree liked to call the group he Aunt and Uncle had started back when Voldemort was at the height of his power, was hunting the ten escaped convicts. The word was they were doing much better than the Ministry or the Order of the Phoenix.

It had been determined from evidence The Third Option had gathered and from statements made by their sources in the ministry that the Dementors had changed sides and the Ministry wasn't telling the public about the danger. That was how the ten Death Eaters had escaped; the guards of Azkaban had released them.

You would had thought the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umbridge a little, that she might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred right under the nose of her beloved Fudge. It seemed, however, to have only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long, and the only question was whether it would be Professor Trelawney or Hagrid who went first.

Every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was now conducted in the presence of Umbridge and her clipboard. She lurked by the fire in the heavily perfumed tower room, interrupting Professor Trelawney's increasingly hysterical talks with difficult questions about ornithomancy and heptomology, insisting that she predicted students' answers before they gave them and demanding that she demonstrate her skill at the crystal ball, the tea leaves and the rune stones in turn. It looked like Trelawney would crack under the strain when Bree finally got fed.

"I told you before it doesn't work that way." She hissed. Umbridge turned to her. "Divination is a lot like trying to hold a handful of sand. The more you force it, the harder it is to do."

Umbridge sniffed derisively. "I do not believe that you are this class's instructor." She said.

"I know more about the future than you ever will." Bree stated.

"Really, than why don't you make a prediction for me." Umbridge suggested. "A real one, not like what you gave last time."

"Are you sure you want that?" Bree asked. "Are you absolutely sure that's what you want? After all, there will be a cost."

Umbridge looked affronted. "You want money for this?"

Bree threw her head back and laughed, before turning serious. "Be careful what you wish for. When dreams come true and wishes are granted there will always be a price to pay. For everything you desire, you have to pay an equal price in return. You can't get more nor give more. Can't be more or less. Must be in balance. Or else, there'll be mishaps. Divination is an 'exchange' between the diviner and the recipient of divination. If I give you a prediction, you will have to give something up; you don't have a choice in the matter. You can gain information but lose your peace of mind. You can gain knowledge but lose your sense of safety, so I'll ask again, are you sure you what to pay the price for my prediction?"

Bree was pretty sure she had just quoted someone, but she couldn't remember who.

Umbridge moved away from Bree and reminded herself that trying to humiliate Bree never worked.

Hagrid was not doing much better then Trelawney.

Though he had shown them nothing more frightening than a Crup — a creature indistinguishable from a Jack Russell terrier except for its forked tail - since before Christmas, he too seemed to have lost his nerve. He was oddly distracted and jumpy during lessons, losing the thread of what he was saying to the class, answering questions wrongly, and all the time glancing anxiously at Umbridge.

* * *

Bree had activated three wards. One was for detecting when a student was being harmed, since that was why Hogwarts had dragged her to Godric's room in the first place, and the other two were command activated security wards. That was why Bree found herself being alerted to a student in danger shortly after Harry had left the common room for his second remedial potions lesson.

Bree trudged down to the dungeons where the wards said the student in harm's way was. She sighed as she realized she was getting close to Snape's room. What had Harry gotten himself into this time? Now that she was closer the ward was able to tell Bree exactly how Harry was being hurt, his mind was being invaded and ripped open. This made Bree very, very angry. Her anger fed into Hogwarts's anger which in turn made Bree angrier until it was impossible to distinguish her rage from Hogwarts's fury.

The door to Snape's dungeon flung itself open with such force that it hit the wall with a loud bang. Snape paused in his attack on Harry and looked over to the source of the noise.

"Bree." Harry said, surprised and looking worse for wear.

"Harry." Bree responded, her voice tense with anger. "Go back to the common room."

Snape sneered. "You are interrupting a private lesson, Smith." He said.

"A lesson." Bree began chuckling darkly and soon it and turned into full-blown madness induced laughter. "A _lesson_ he says." She said in between fits of laughter. Harry was edging toward the door.

"Stay put Potter." Snape growled. Bree abruptly stopped laughing.

"Go back to the common room Harry." She said. Snape glared at her. Bree glared back.

"You're not giving a lesson; you're attacking his psyche and ripping open his mind." She hissed.

"And how would you know about that?" Snape asked.

"I have experience with this kind of thing." Bree stated.

"What sort of experience?" Snape pressed.

"The kind of experience that rips open your mind and lets in things that were never supposed to be there. The kind of experience that changes you for life. The kind of experience that nearly kills you." Bree explained. She frowned.

"I understand why you would want to do that to Harry, but I don't get why he would let you." She said.

"He's teaching me to shield my mind." Harry mumbled.

"Oh, that's _fantastic_. And who's the hare-brained idiot that came up with this idea?" Bree snarled.

"Well Dumbledore," Harry began to explain, but was cut off by Bree.

"Dumbledore? The same Dumbledore that set you on the Dursley's doorstep in the middle of the night in November? The Dumbledore that put a Cerberus in the school? The former chief of the Wizengamot that didn't see Sirius Black get a fair trial? The headmaster that didn't notice that one of the teachers he employed had Voldemort growing out of the back of his head or that another had been replaced by an escaped convict? That Dumbledore?" Bree growled.

Harry nodded, dumbfounded.

"Dumbledore is a powerful and widely respected wizard." Snape stated tensely.

"He's manipulative old coot who took credit for the works of others during Voldemort's rise." Bree snapped. "He cannot be trusted."

"Let's go Harry; I know where we can find an actual teacher." Bree stated as she ushered Harry out of the classroom.

* * *

"Well, Snape's method would have worked eventually." Ben stated after Bree had explained the situation to him. "After years of constant attack his mind would have eventually adapted and built up defenses."

"Years?" Harry echoed in disbelief.

"I suppose you need it sooner than that?" Ben said.

"Er, yeah." Harry said.

"We can begin as soon as you're ready." Ben stated. "I'll understand if you need some time to recover from Snape's repeated assault."

"Thanks, but I need to get started as soon as possible." Harry replied.

"Very well then." Ben said.

* * *

"So how'd it go?" Bree asked. Ben had been investigating Harry's mind similarly to hoe Healer Michaels had once investigated Bree's mind.

"It's as bad as I thought it would be." Ben responded. "His mind is easy to get into, his memories are in the most obvious places, there is no layering, everything exists on the same plane. Compared to your mind he might has well be shouting his most personal thoughts and feeling in the Great Hall while standing on a table." He sighed.

Harry looked irritated. "How is Bree's mind defended?" he asked.

"There's a complex layering system, a mental construct that acts as a guardian for her mind, her memories are hidden where you would least expect them, and there are mental barriers that only let you if Bree allows you in, and that only let you out if Bree allows you to get out. If she wanted to she could keep someone prisoner in her mind." Ben explained.

Harry was stunned. "Wha? How?" he said.

"Years of having my mind attacked repeatedly followed by someone putting in a barrier for me." Bree stated.

"How long?" Harry said. "I mean, how long were you being attacked?"

Bree tilted her head thoughtfully. "I know was very little when it started and it ended a little while after the first task of the tri-wizard tournament." She answered.

Harry gaped. "But that's almost the entire time I've know you!" he exclaimed.

Bree looked a little sad. "Yeah, it's kind of why I am the way I am. Nothing was taken out of my head; it's just that things were put in it, things that never should have been there. After the attacks were stopped my mind was still open to the things so a barrier was put in place to keep the things out." she stated.

"What kind of things?" Harry inquired.

"Information," Bree began. "about the universe, about everything that ever was and will ever be."

"So you were a seer?" Harry blurted out.

"No. I just have memories of events I've never witness. It's all irrelevant really. Who cares if I remember Pompeii on volcano day? Those people died thousands of years ago. Who cares if the earth is going to burn up in five billion years? We'll all be dead by then. And everything else, everything that happens in the present, those events all occur thousands of miles away from me, there's nothing I can do about them, so the memories were suppressed, I can no longer access them easily." Bree said.

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" Harry asked softly.

"I did." Bree stated flatly. "There are those in the school who know about creatures I've seen."

"What! Who?" Harry asked in shock.

"Everyone who I told about the Vasta Nerada and the Weeping Angels." Bree replied.

"But," Harry began to protest. "but you were making those things up, weren't you?"

"No Harry, she wasn't." Ben replied. "In fact we've already started lessons about those creatures and a whole host of similar ones."

Harry was stunned.

* * *

"Where did you find Ben?" Harry asked Bree as they walked back to the common room.

"He works for my Uncle." Bree answered.

"Isn't your Uncle a muggle?" Harry said.

"Yeah, but he knows about magic. He knew about it even before I did, part of his job really." Bree explained.

"What does he do?" Harry inquired.

"Imports and exports." Bree stated vaguely. "Oh look, we're here." She said for they had arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait.

* * *

As Bree lay in bed that night she found herself thinking about who she could trust to be tied to the wards. Ben certainly, his loyalty was to Aunt Lisa and Uncle Vince who both loved their niece, plus Ben was already aware of bush magic and had promised to teach Bree in summer once they were away from the Hogwarts wards. Not the twins, it wasn't that Bree didn't trust them, it was just they were planning on leaving Hogwarts and starting their business soon. Harry had enough on his plate as it was, so he was out.

She needed someone who could keep a secret, maybe from the D.A. but she didn't know many of them that well so she'd have to investigate.

* * *

Everyone in the D.A. even Zacharias Smith, had been spurred on to work harder than ever by the news that ten more Death Eaters were now on the loose, but in nobody was this improvement more pronounced than in Neville. The news of his parents' attackers' escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in him. Neville barely spoke during the D.A. meetings any more, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and counter-curse Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents and working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm - a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker - only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville.

Bree made a mental list during the meeting, trying to decide to who to include. Everyone who was graduating that year was ruled out immediately, so was Zacharias Smith. Neville's determination to improve himself was promising, but Bree was not sure of his loyalties. Dean had been behaving strangely around Bree lately. It seemed that he wanted to ask her something, but the twins would show up and chase him off before he could get the words out. Bree wasn't sure what to make of that. Luna was a viable candidate as an outsider who often said things that were never believed.

* * *

Dean looked left, then looked right, then he looked up, over his shoulder and behind a suit of armor. The coast clear he approached Bree.

"Will you go to the next Hogsmade weekend with me?" he blurted out quickly.

"Um… okay?" Bree said, looking confused.

"Great! It's a date then!" Dean exclaimed before running off. Bree blinked.

"A date?... What just happened?" she asked Lee who was gaping a pointing from across the hall. He stayed like that for a full minute before running off as well.

* * *

"I see." George said after Lee had informed him of the situation.

"You know what we must do Forge." Fred stated grimly.

"Yes I do Gred, we have to kill Dean." George responded.

Fred sighed. "No, not that."

"Maim him?"

"No, no, not that either."

"Can I at least ruin his date with Bree?"

"That was what I was going to suggest in the first place, so yeah."

"Um, why do we want to keep Dean away from Bree?" Lee asked. The twins started at him for a moment.

"She needs to be protected." George stated.

"Yeah, but why?" Lee said.

"She's oblivious." Fred explained

"She doesn't understand that things have changed since first year." George said.

"I think she's noticed the whole Umbridge situation." Lee said incredulously.

"No, not that." Fred replied.

"She hasn't noticed that she's… grown up." George stated somewhat awkwardly.

"What, you mean like she'd taller or something?" Lee inquired even though he had caught on to what the twins were talking about. He just wanted them to say it.

"She had boobs Lee!" Fred exclaimed.

"It's like she dosen't even notice they're there." George groaned.

"Like when she bends over to pick something up off the floor." Fred complained.

"Or when you're researching ideas for prank products and she leans over you to see what you're reading and they're right there pressing up against you!" George exclaimed.

"That was a very specific example." Lee noted.

"The point is that someone could take advantage of her and we need to protect her." Fred said.

"Are you sure you're not just keeping her for yourselves?" Lee asked.

"What!" George yelled.

"Of course not!" Fred shouted.

"Are you sure? Because last year at the yule ball Bree did end up going with you George." Lee pointed out.

"She asked me!" George defended.

"Well it's not like you went out of your way to make yourself unavailable to her." Lee stated.

"She's like a sister!" George insisted.

"Really? 'Cause I don't see you chasing the boys away from Ginny." Lee said.

"Shut up." George growled.

"That's not answer." Lee pointed out.

"We're not talking about this anymore." Fred stated. The twins began planning to sabotage Dean's date with Bree while ignoring statements Lee made about their relationship with Bree.

* * *

**I am writing from inside of an R.V at a campground with a less than ideal internet connection. Please excuse any delay and review please.**


	59. Year 5: De Nile Ain't Just a River

Every student in Hogwarts wanted a better explanation for how the ten Death Eaters had escaped than the one the Ministry gave in the Daily Prophet. That explanation pretty much amounted to "We don't know, but we're looking into it."

Hermione had been hinting that the students might want an explanation. She knew that Bree had some sort of control over Rita Skeeter and implied that Bree should arrange an interview with the reporter for herself, Harry, and Cedric.

Bree wrote a letter to Rita that commanded her to show up at the three broomsticks at noon on February fourteenth, and then she cornered Harry and Cedric and told them to do the same.

* * *

"Why am I here?" Lee asked from where he was crouched in some bushes near Hogsmade.

"Because Charlie refused to send us a dragon." Fred answered from a nearby shrub.

"It's not like we even asked for one of the big ones." George muttered.

"That doesn't explain why I'm here." Harry grumbled from next to Lee.

"Bill wouldn't send us a cursed object." Fred replied.

"It's not like we even asked for one of the deadly ones." George stated.

"We just wanted something disfiguring."

"Of course then Bill's letter went on about how we should respect Bree's privacy."

"Bloody useless."

"Maybe you should have taken his advice." Lee muttered.

"What was that?" George asked.

"I just think you're being a bit obsessive. If you don't want Bree to date other people you should have asked her out yourself." Lee replied.

"I told you, Bree's like a sister." George growled.

"And I told you, I don't see you chasing the boys away from Ginny." Lee stated.

"Shut up." George demanded.

"That's still not an answer." Lee replied.

"We're not talking about this anymore." Fred stated. The twins settled in to wait for Dean and Bree to show up while ignoring statements Lee made about their relationship with Bree, with input from Harry.

* * *

The keystone in Gryffindor's secret room looked like a glistening white marble statue of a lion chewing up a snake. Bree stared at it for a moment then stared at the portrait of Gryffindor. Gryffindor shrugged.

"It adds to the atmosphere of the room." He said.

Bree sighed and broke off one of the lions claws and slipped it into her pocket so that Hogwarts wouldn't freak out when she left.

"Hi." Bree greeted when she met Dean in the entrance hall.

"Er-Hello." Dean responded nervously. "You look pretty."

Bree blushed. "Thanks." She murmured. "No one's ever told me that before."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"Well - er — shall we go, then?" Dean said.

It was a fresh, breezy sort of a day and as they passed the Quidditch stadium Bree glimpsed Ron and Ginny skimming along over the stands. Angelina was forcing the team to practice.

As they approached Hogsmade made they saw something of interest. Lee was up in a tree having climbed as far as he could up into its branches. George was trying to get up the tree in an apparent effort to kill Lee, but he was being restrained by Fred and Harry.

Bree and Dean stared for a moment.

"Let's just go." Dean suggested.

"Yeah." Said Bree.

They wandered towards Dervish and Banges.

A large poster had been stuck up in the window and a few Hogsmeaders were looking at it. They moved aside when Bree and Dean approached. The poster had pictures of all the ten escaped Death Eaters. The poster, By Order of the Ministry of Magic, offered a thousand-Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information leading to the recapture of any of the convicts pictured.

"It's funny, isn't it," said Dean in a low voice, gazing up at the pictures of the Death Eaters, "remember when that Sirius Black escaped, and there were Dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him? And now ten Death Eaters are on the loose and there are no Dementors anywhere…"

"Yeah, strange." Bree muttered even though she knew why there were no dementors.

The ten escaped Death Eaters were staring out of every shop window Bree and Dean passed. It started to rain cold, heavy drops of water as they passed Scrivenshaft's.

"We should go in and get warmed up." Dean suggested.

"Yeah." Bree agreed. "Where do you want to go?"

"How about Madam Puddifoot's?" Dean said.

"God no." Bree replied in disgust. "That place is awful. I don't get why the other girls all like it."

Dean laughed. "Yeah it is pretty horrible, isn't it?" he said.

"You remember when Lockhart decorated for Valentine's Day? It's like that only all year round." Bree said. "How about the Three Broomsticks?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds good."

"Great, I've got to meet someone there around noon anyway." Bree explained as they started walking to the Tree Broomsticks.

"Really? Who?" Dean asked.

"Just Rita Skeeter. I'm giving her an interview." Bree stated absently.

"I thought you didn't like Rita." Dean said.

"I don't. Not when she's working against me anyway. But today she's helping me out with something that will really get under the ministry's skin." Bree responded.

"Oh?"

"It's about what happened last June. Cedric and Harry will probably show up too." Bree frowned.

"Oh." Dean said glumly as he held the door to the Three Broomsticks open for Bree.

Dean bought some warm drinks. The two talked for a bit. A little while before noon Harry walked in. He walked over to Hagrid who was sitting alone in a corner, looking morose. They talked for a bit before Hagrid left. A few minutes later Rita walked in, followed by Vince and Otto and then by Cedric and Cho. Vince walked right over to the table where Bree and Dean were sitting. Bree stood up and gave Vince a big hug.

"Uncle Vince, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Just making sure the Rita stays under control." He answered. "Who's this?"

Bree blushed. "This is Dean, we're- er- we're on a… date." She stammered.

"I see." Vince said, eyeing Dean carefully. "Why don't I keep him company why you go talk to Rita?"

"Sure." Bree said before going over to the table where Rita, Harry, and Cedric had gathered.

"So," Vince began once Bree was out of earshot. "What makes you think your good enough to date my niece?" he asked.

* * *

The interview had been difficult for Bree. She knew that it was necessary, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She hadn't dealt with what had happened in the graveyard. The trauma from that day had been pushed aside by what had happened afterwards. She hadn't thought about the pain she had been in that day, or how scared she was that Harry and Cedric could have died. What would have happened if she hadn't tackled Cedric? What if her distraction hadn't worked and Voldemort had noticed the boys escaping?

Bree let Harry and Cedric do the talking. When the subject of the Cruciatus curse came up Bree had trouble answering. It was hard for her to find the words to describe the worst she had ever felt in her entire life. When the interview was over Bree got very quiet.

* * *

"You idiot, now we have no idea where they are." George growled at Lee.

"I'm not the one who suddenly developed homicidal tendencies." Lee replied.

"They could be anywhere in Hogsmade by now." Fred complained.

"Where's Harry?" George asked.

"He left a while ago. He said something about having to meet Bree at the Three Broomsticks at noon or "face her wrath."" Lee explained.

"What time is it?" Fred asked.

"Twelve forty-five." George answered after check his watch. There was a moment of silence.

"So we've been out in the pouring rain, for hours, looking for two people that were in the Three Broomsticks the entire time?" Fred summarized.

"We did spend most of that convincing Lee it was safe to come down from the tree." George pointed out.

"The tree you chased him up." Fred replied.

"Can we go to the Three Broomsticks now?" Lee asked.

* * *

Fred, George, and Lee walked into the Three Broomsticks looking wet and miserable. Bree was the first to spot them.

"You remind of the time I gave my cat a bath." She said, but there was no humor in her voice.

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Fred deadpanned.

"Where's Dean?" George asked.

"I don't know. He was with Uncle Vince." Bree replied, frowning.

"He went to the bathroom and never came back." Vince stated.

"Gee." Said Fred.

"That's a shame." George continued, not meaning a word of it. Both twins were holding back grins.

* * *

Later that evening, Seamus had entered the boy's dorm and heard something strange coming from Dean's bed. He walked over and opened the curtain. Dean was rocking back and forth on the bed in a fetal position while singing.

"My bologna has a first name it's O-S-C-A-R."

Seamus closed the curtains and went to bed.

* * *

Dean avoided Bree from then on. During classes he would stay as far away as from Bree as possible while still being able to participate in the lesson. In the hallway he would dart around corners and hide behind suits of armor.

"What did you two do to him?" Ron asked the twins after Dean trampled a group of first years in order to get away from Bree.

"Nothing." Fred answered.

"It was Bree's uncle." George stated.

Ron stared at the spot where the disoriented first years were picking themselves up.

"Bree's family is frightening." He said.

"I know." Said Fred.

"Isn't it great? We didn't have to do anything and Dean's completely traumatized." George said happily.

"You won't think it's so great when one of you starts dating Bree." Lee stated.

"It's not like that." George said, scowling.

"She's like a sister." Fred stated.

"You haven't been chasing any boys away from your actual sister." Lee pointed out.

"What boys?" Ron asked. He was ignored.

* * *

THEY SPEAK OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT HE RETURNED

That was the headline of the Daily Prophet on Sunday morning. Soon Harry, Cedric, and Bree were swamped with owls.

"Must be letters from the readers." Bree said as she rescued a plate of bacon from being trampled by owls.

"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly. "D'you mind if we -?"

"Help yourself." said Harry.

"Go ahead." Bree said.

Ron and Hermione both started ripping open envelopes.

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rockers," said Ron, glancing down his letter. "Ah well…"

"This woman recommends trying a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo's," said Hermione, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.

"This one looks okay, though," said Harry slowly, scanning a long letter from a witch in Paisley.

"Hey, she says she believes me!"

"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across mad, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know- Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now. Blimey, what a waste of parchment."

"Here's another one you've convinced!" said Hermione excitedly. "Having read your side of the story, I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly… little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth… Oh, this is wonderful!"

"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder "… but this one says you've got her converted and she now thinks you're a real hero - she's put in a photograph, too - wow!"

"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.

Harry looked up with his hands full of envelopes. Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred and George, her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table. Behind her many of the students watching them avidly.

"Why have you got all these letters?" she asked slowly.

"Is that a crime now?" said Fred loudly. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umbridge. "Well?"

"They're from people who read our interview." Bree answered.

"An interview?" repeated Umbridge, her voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a reporter asked us questions and we answered them," said Harry. "Here -"

And he threw the copy of The Daily Prophet to her. She caught it and stared down at the cover. Her pale, doughy face turned an ugly, patchy violet.

"When did you do this?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Last Hogsmeade weekend," said Harry.

She looked up at him, incandescent with rage, the paper shaking in her stubby fingers.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you" she whispered. "How you dare… how you could…" She took a deep breath. "I have tried to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."

"Only applies to Harry and Cedric." Bree stated, grinning. "God, this must be what diplomatic immunity feels like! It's awesome!"

She stalked away, clutching The Prophet to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.

By mid-morning enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just on house noticeboards, but in the corridors and classrooms too.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Any student found in possession of the paper The Daily Prophet will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

"Still doesn't apply to me!" Bree sang as she skipped down the hall.

Every time Hermione caught sight of one of these signs she beamed with pleasure.

And it seemed that Hermione was quite right. By the end of the day the whole school seemed to be quoting the interview to each other. They whipered about it as they queued up outside classes, discussed it over lunch and in the back of lessons, while Hermione even reported that every occupant of the cubicles in the girls' toilets had been talking about it when she nipped in there before Ancient Runes. "Then they spotted me, and obviously they know I know you, so they bombarded me with questions," Hermione told Harry, her eyes shining, "and Harry, I think they believe you, I really do, I think you've finally got them convinced!"

Meanwhile, Professor Umbridge was stalking the school, stopping students at random and demanding that they turn out their books and pockets. She was looking for copies of The Daily Prophet, but the students were several steps ahead of her. The pages carrying the interview had been bewitched to resemble extracts from textbooks if anyone but themselves read it, or else wiped magically blank until they wanted to peruse it again. Soon it seemed that every single person in the school had read it.

The teachers were of course forbidden from mentioning the interview by Educational Decree Number Twenty-six, but they found ways to express their feelings about it all the same.

Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when Harry passed her a watering can; a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar mice on him at the end of Charms, said, "Shh!" and hurried away; and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister for Magic and have twelve children.

Bree and Cedric received similar treatment. Bree's graphic description of the effects of the Cruciatus curse had affected the teachers to the point that she felt as if she was being coddled in all of her classes, except for Ben's. In fact Ben was highly unsympathetic.

"Today we're going to work on your ability to dodge. Think fast." He said right before Bree was hit in the face with a water balloon.

"What the hell was that!" Bree exclaimed.

"If you knew how to dodge you wouldn't have been cursed. Now get moving." Ben said before he started throwing balloons.

Line line line

At dinnertime Bree walked into the Great Hall soaking wet, her clothes sticking to her like a second skin, highlighting every curve of her body. She drew the attention of a good portion of the male population but was oblivious to it because she was too invested in her bad mood to notice anything else. Someone draped a cloak around her shoulders.

Bree looked up and found a red faced George standing next to her.

"You looked cold." He muttered.

"Thanks." Bree said. "Are you alright? You look like you have a fever. You didn't get sick from all the time you spent in the rain, did you?" She reached up to feel his forehead and check for a fever. George grabbed her hand.

"I'm fine." He said. "Let's just sit down."

* * *

When the twins and Bree went up to the common room that evening they found Harry and Hermione working on homework.

"Ron and Ginny not here?" asked Fred, looking around as he pulled up a chair, and when Harry shook his head, he said, "Good. We were watching their practice. They're going to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish without us."

"Come on, Ginny's not bad," said George fairly, sitting down next to Fred as Bree stretched out on one for the couches. "Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us."

"She's been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren't looking," said Hermione from behind her tottering pile of Ancient Rune books.

"Oh," said George, looking mildly impressed. "Well - that'd explain it."

"Has Ron saved a goal yet?" asked Hermione, peering over the top of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms.

"Well, he can do it if he doesn't think anyone's watching him," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up his end on Saturday."

He got up again and moved restlessly to the window, staring out across the dark grounds.

"You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for."

Hermione cast him a stern look.

"You've got exams coming!"

"Told you already, we're not fussed about NEWTs," said Fred. "The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of Murtlap essence sorts them.

George yawned widely and looked out disconsolately at the cloudy night sky.

"I dunno if I even want to watch this match. If Zacharias Smith beats us I might have to kill myself."

"Kill him, more like," said Fred firmly.

"That's the trouble with Quidditch," said Hermione absent-mindedly, once again bent over her Runes translation, "it creates all this bad feeling and tension between the houses."

She looked up to find her copy of Spellman's Syllabary, and caught Fred, George and Harry all staring at her with expressions of mingled disgust and incredulity on their faces.

"Well, it does!" she said impatiently. "It's only a game, isn't it?"

"No Hermione, it's an industry." Bree corrected. "It's like any other sport. Large fan base with fierce competition between teams, there merchandizing and sponsorships and the pros get unbelievably large paychecks."

The very best thing you could say about the match that Saturday was that it was short; the Gryffindor spectators had to endure only twenty-two minutes of agony. It was hard to say what the worst thing was: though it was a close-run contest between Ron's fourteenth failed save, Sloper missing the Bludger but hitting Angelina in the mouth with his bat, and Kirke shrieking and falling backwards off his broom when Zacharias Smith zoomed at him carrying the Quaffle. The miracle was that Gryffindor only lost by ten points: Ginny managed to snatch the Snitch from right under Hufflepuff Seeker Summerby's nose, so that the final score was two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty.

* * *

Bree found herself called to Dumbledore's office one during the following week.

"It has come to my attention that you have made some interesting claims during a confrontation with Professor Snape." Dumbledore stated after Bree had sat down.

"Oh?" Bree replied cooly.

"You claimed to have had your mind ripped open." Dumbledore stated.

"What of it?" Bree asked.

"Are you aware that such an assault is a crime?" the Headmaster inquired.

"Crimes can only be committed by humans." Bree stated.

"Are you saying that there is a creature capable of attacking a person's mind?"

"It's dead."

"You don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation, Miss Smith. If there are more of this species out there-"

Bree cut him off. "It doesn't matter if there are more or if there aren't. Once it's detected it makes whoever found it forget that it's there. In order to prevent this it has to be knocked out immediately along with its victim. It puts things into your mind that were never supposed to be there, then eventually your mind overloads and your brain tops working. Then you die."

"What sort of things?"

"Nothing I'm telling you."

"I just want to help you Miss Smith."

"You just want to use me. It's what you do. I know things that you think I shouldn't and you want to use that for your own gain."

"Everything I do for the Greater Good."

"You're either a liar or a fool professor. No matter what your motivation is, I know how you work. You use people and throw them away once they are no longer useful to you. You were chief of the Wizengamot and yet Sirius didn't receive a trial. When baby Harry Potter was being hailed as a hero and you left in on a doorstep at night in November, with relatives who hate anything that doesn't fit their view of normal. He was eleven years old before you made contact with him again. Eleven, as you know, is the age at which children being their magical education, which also makes it the age the Harry began being of use to you." Bree stretched and made herself more comfortable in her chair before she began speaking again.

"I don't care for your Greater Good, Professor. They do nothing for themselves and expect all problems to be taken care of by others. I hate people like that, they're lazy, cowardly, and spineless, and they all expect something for nothing. The world doesn't work that way, you get as much as you give, you give as much as you take. And speaking of take, you Dumbledore, take credit for what you haven't done. Your Order of the Phoenix should be called the Order of the Incompetent. Its' just a merry band of idiots whose leader is taking us all to hell in a hand basket. Harry defeated Voldemort that first time, Aurors caught the Death Eaters, and as for the Order, well you claimed to have killed some Death Eaters and to have stopped some attacks, and of course people believed you because the ones who did the actual work didn't step forward." Bree yawned and gave Dumbledore a rather bored look.

"The Order is, at best, a convenient way to draw attention away from those who actually get things done. Its only saving grace is the Aurors who are among its members, and their success reflects only on their training, not on your leadership abilities." Bree grinned.

"I hate you. People I care about have gotten hurt because of you. Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban, Mr. Weasley almost died, and Harry, oh god, so much has happened to Harry, it's a wonder he's still as sane as he is."

Dumbledore had a grim look about him. "You seem to know quite a bit about the other group working against Voldemort and his Death Eaters." He said. Bree gave him a bland look.

"Yes, I do." She stated.

"It is very important that I contact them so that we can collaborate." Dumbledore implored.

"They have no interest in you. If they ever develop one, which is extremely unlikely, they'll contact you." Bree replied.

"I'm truly sorry Miss Smith, but I need that information." Dumbledore said before he attempted to invade Bree mind. His attempt failed of course. Unlike Michaels, who Bree allowed in, Dumbledore was kept out. He hit the barrier around Bree's mind and bounced off. Bree stood up.

"After what happened to me do you really think I would let anything or anyone in without permission." She hissed. "Michaels got in because I let him in, he got out because I let him out and he's damn lucky the defenses beyond the barrier didn't rip him to shreds and send him back a vegetable. If you ever try that again you'll spend the rest of your life being spoon fed and having your diapers changed by a nurse." Bree paused for a moment then grinned.

"You know _Professor_, I could have you charged for what you just did, but I won't, it's more fun that way." Bree began to leave. She stopped in the doorway.

"A word of advice, if you ever want to contact me again, do it through my lawyer." She said.

* * *

168. The Order of the Phoenix is not "A merry band of idiots."

186. Dumbledore is not "Taking us all to hell in a hand basket."

* * *

**Review please.**


	60. Year 5: And You're Outta Here!

Harry's lessons with Ben were going well. He still had visions from Voldemort's point of view but he felt more like an observer and less like he was the Dark Lord. Bree hadn't gone to any of the occulemency since the first one. It was kind of pointless for Bree to go, all things considered…

So when Harry went to see Ben for his next lesson, Bree went to Godric's secret room. Bree activated two more security wards before settling down to have a discussion with the painting a Godric Gryffindor.

"I've narrowed it down to Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood." She told the painting.

"I would have expected you to pick those twins of yours." Godric replied.

"They're planning on leaving the school as soon as possible. I'm pretty sure they'll be gone once they finish the final arrangements for their business." Bree explained.

"I see." The painting replied. "But why Neville and Luna." He inquired.

"Well, I've been watching them a lot lately. Neville has shown a lot of determination ever since those ten Death Eaters escaped and he has shown a progress in defense." Bree replied.

"But does his determination come from a desire for revenge or a desire to protect?" Godric asked. Bree thought for a moment.

"A bit of both I think. He wants to avenge his parents but I think that he mostly wants to keep what happened to his parents from happening to anyone else." She responded.

"And Luna." Godric pressed.

"Luna is an enigma, an outsider with no clear loyalties. She says a lot of things that no one believes so even if so told someone something completely factual they wouldn't believe her." Bree told him. Any continued conversation they may have had was cut off by a woman's scream, followed by a muffled struggle. Bree sighed.

"I'll go take care of it." She muttered.

* * *

There was a crowd in the Entrance Hall, watching the commotion. Bree pushed through it and saw Professor Trelawney was standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall with her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking utterly mad. Her hair was sticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other; her innumerable shawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from her shoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her, one of them upside-down; it looked very much as though it had been thrown down the stairs after her. Professor Trelawney was staring, apparently terrified, at something Bree could not see but which seemed to be standing at the foot of the stairs.

"No!" she shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening… it cannot… I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming?" said a high girlish voice, sounding callously amused, and Bree, moving slightly to her right, saw that Trelawney's terrifying vision was nothing other than Professor Umbridge.

"Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?"

"You c - can't!" howled Professor Trelawney, tears streaming down her face from behind her enormous lenses, "you c - can't sack me! I've b - been here sixteen years! H - Hogwarts is in - my h - home!"

"It was your home," said Professor Umbridge, and it was revolting to see the enjoyment stretching her toadlike face as she watched Professor Trelawney sink, sobbing uncontrollably, on to one of her trunks, "until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned your Order of Dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this Hall. You are embarrassing us."

But she stood and watched, with an expression of gloating enjoyment, as Professor Trelawney shuddered and moaned, rocking backwards and forwards on her trunk in paroxysms of grief. Bree heard a muffled sob to her left and looked around. Lavender and Parvati were both crying quietly, their arms round each other. Then she heard footsteps. Professor McGonagall had broken away from the spectators, marched straight up to Professor Trelawney and was patting her firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.

"There, there, Sibyll… calm down… blow your nose on this… it's not as bad as you think, now… you are not going to have to leave Hogwarts…"

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" said Umbridge in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. "And your authority for that statement is…?"

"That would be mine," said a deep voice.

The oaken front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared in the entrance. Leaving the doors wide open behind him he strode forwards through the circle of onlookers towards Professor Trelawney, tear-stained and trembling, on her trunk, Professor McGonagall alongside her.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" said Umbridge, with a singularly unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here -" she pulled a parchment scroll from within her robes "-an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation and sack any teacher she - that is to say, I - feel is not performing to the standards required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."

Bree frowned; Umbridge was getting a little too high and mighty. Dumbledore continued to smile.

He looked down at Professor Trelawney, who was still sobbing and choking on her trunk, and said, "You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid," he went on, with a courteous little bow, "that the power to do that still resides with the Headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild little laugh in which a hiccough was barely hidden.

"No - no, I'll g - go, Dumbledore! I sh - shall - leave Hogwarts and s - seek my fortune elsewhere -"

"No," said Dumbledore sharply. "It is my wish that you remain, Sibyll."

He turned to Professor McGonagall. Vigorously discussed

"Might I ask you to escort Sibyll back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course," said McGonagall. "Up you get, Sibyll…"

Professor Sprout came hurrying forwards out of the crowd and grabbed Professor Trelawney's other arm. Together, they guided her past Umbridge and up the marble stairs. Professor Flitwick went scurrying after them, his wand held out before him; he squeaked "Locomotor trunks!" and Professor Trelawney's luggage rose into the air and proceeded up the staircase after her, Professor Flitwick bringing up the rear.

Professor Umbridge was standing stock still, staring at Dumbledore, who continued to smile benignly.

"And what," she said, in a whisper that carried all around the Entrance Hall, "are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

"You've found -?" said Umbridge shrilly. "You've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-two -"

"The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if -and only if- the Headmaster is unable to find one," said Dumbledore. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"

He turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was now drifting. Bree heard hooves. There was a shocked murmur around the Hall and those nearest the doors hastily moved even further backwards, some of them tripping over in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer.

Through the mist came a face Harry had seen once before on a dark, dangerous night in the Forbidden Forest: white-blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes; the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse.

"This is Firenze," said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable." Umbridge looked as if she was to protest, but Bree was faster. She activated a security ward.

"Restrain." Bree whispered. Umbridge went stiff, her limbs snapping together. She was unable to to move or speak.

"Get out and stay out." Bree muttered. An invisible force dragged Umbridge out the door and deposited her on the grounds. Umbridge stumbled to her feet. Looking irate she stormed back to toward the doors demanding to know who was responsible. As she approached the door she was pushed back by a barrier. As the crowd watched in stunned silence Bree grinned and walked away.

* * *

"That's some amazing spellwork that keeping Umbridge out." George said from the common room's window, observing the tent that Umbridge was being forced to live and teach in.

"I wonder how they did it." Fred stated.

"I don't." Bree replied.

"What!" George exclaimed, looking shocked.

"It would be great to know that kind of magic!" Fred said.

"How could you not want to know?" George asked.

"I already know." Bree replied. The twins stared at her for a moment before realization spread across their faces. They grinned.

"You're the one you ousted Umbridge." Fred stated.

"You have to teach us to do that!" George exclaimed.

"I can't teach you to do that." Bree said.

"Why not?" George pouted.

"Because I don't know how to do it." Bree replied. The twins looked confused.

"All I did was give the order. Hogwarts took care of the rest." Bree elaborated.

"What do you mean?" Fred asked.

Bree grinned. "How would you two like to know a secret that no one else knows?" she asked.

"We're listening." The twins replied.

* * *

Bree and the twins were sitting in Gryffindor's secret room after Bree, with help from Gryffindor's painting, had explained the sentience of Hogwarts.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" George asked.

Bree shrugged. "I already told Harry about the Room of Requirement, I just wanted to keep something to myself for a while." She answered

"I guess that makes sense." Fred muttered.

"Who else are you going to attach to the wards?" George asked. Bree had already explained to the twins why she hadn't picked them and they had agreed that they weren't that interested in being tied to Hogwarts when they were so close to opening their own business.

"I was thinking Neville and Luna, but I don't know how to go about approaching them." Bree paused for a moment. "You two have any ideas?" The twins grinned.

* * *

It was breakfast time, two days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney, and Parvati was curling her eyelashes around her wand and examining the effect in the back of her spoon. They were to have their first lesson with Firenze that morning.

"Not really" said Hermione indifferently, who was reading the Daily Prophet. "I've never really liked horses."

She turned a page of the newspaper and scanned its columns.

"He's not a horse, he's a centaur!" said Lavender, sounding shocked.

"A gorgeous centaur…" sighed Parvati.

"Either way, he's still got four legs," said Hermione coolly. "Anyway I thought you two were all upset that Trelawney had gone?"

"We are!" Lavender assured her. "We went up to her office to see her; we took her some daffodils - not the honking ones that Sprout's got, nice ones."

"How is she?" asked Harry.

"Not very good, poor thing," said Lavender sympathetically. "She was crying and saying she'd rather leave the castle forever than stay here where Umbridge is, and I don't blame her, Umbridge was horrible to her, wasn't she?"

"I hope the curse breakers don't figure out whatever spell is keeping her out anytime soon." Ron stated.

"No chance of that happening." George said as he and Fred sat down.

"Bill and his team have been working on it since early this morning." Fred explained.

"They haven't made any progress cracking it." George elaborated.

"Bill's here?" Ron questioned.

"The Ministry goons they sent yesterday didn't accomplish anything so they asked Gringotts to send some of their curse breakers." Bree explained.

* * *

Classroom eleven was where Divination classes were now to be held. It was on the ground floor along the corridor leading off the Entrance Hall from the opposite side to the Great Hall. It was one of those classrooms that were never used regularly, and therefore had the slightly neglected feeling of a cupboard or storeroom.

When Bree entered she found herself in the middle of a forest clearing, she was therefore momentarily stunned.

"What the -?"

The classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were growing out of it; their leafy branches fanned across the ceiling and windows, so that the room was full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled, green light. The students who had already arrived were sitting on the earthy floor with their backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around their knees or folded tightly across their chests, and all looking rather nervous. In the middle of the clearing, where there were no trees, stood Firenze.

"Harry Potter," he said, holding out a hand when Harry entered.

"Er - hi," said Harry, shaking hands with the centaur, who surveyed him unblinkingly through those astonishingly blue eyes but did not smile. "Er - good to see you."

"And you," said the centaur, inclining his white-blond head. "It was foretold that we would meet again."

There was the shadow of a hoof-shaped bruise on Firenze's chest.

When the door was closed and the last student had sat down on a tree stump beside the wastepaper basket, Firenze gestured around the room.

"Professor Dumbledore has kindly arranged this classroom for us," said Firenze, when everyone had settled down, "in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Forbidden Forest, which was - until Monday - my home… but that is no longer possible."

"Please - er - sir -" said Parvati breathlessly, raising her hand, "- why not? We've been in there with Hagrid, we're not frightened!"

"It is not a question of your bravery," said Firenze, "but of my position. I cannot return to the Forest. My herd has banished me."

"Herd?" said Lavender in a confused voice, and Harry knew she was thinking of cows. "What - oh!" Comprehension dawned on her face. "There are more of you!" she said, stunned.

"Did Hagrid breed you, like the Thestrals?" asked Dean eagerly. Bree wanted to punch him and Firenze turned his head very slowly to face Dean, who seemed to realize at once that he had said something very offensive.

"I didn't - I meant - sorry" he finished in a hushed voice.

"Centaurs are not the servants or playthings of humans," said Firenze quietly. There was a pause, then Parvati raised her hand again.

"Please, sir… why have the other centaurs banished you?"

"Because I have agreed to work for Professor Dumbledore," said Firenze. "They see this as a betrayal of our kind."

"Let us begin," said Firenze. He swished his long palomino tail, raised his hand towards the leafy canopy overhead, then lowered it slowly, and as he did so, the light in the room dimmed, so that they now seemed to be sitting in a forest clearing by twilight, and stars appeared on the ceiling.

There were oohs and gasps and Ron said audibly, "Blimey!"

"Lie back on the floor," said Firenze in his calm voice, "and observe the heavens. Here is written, for those who can see, the fortune of our races."

Bree did as instructed. Space looks beautiful and peaceful when you observe it from earth, but it's a lie. Not to say that it isn't beautiful, it is, but it's a chaotic and deadly beauty. Bree couldn't quite remember the events, but she knew the dangers. The red star above Harry was Mars. It has a source of frozen water that you had better not drink without filtering it first. Stay off of planet midnight, count the shadows in the library, don't ride on space liners named after the Titanic, and no matter where you go, if you encounter weeping angels DON'T BLINK.

"I know that you have learned the names of the planets and their moons in Astronomy," said Firenze's calm voice, "and that you have mapped the stars progress through the heavens. Centaurs have unraveled the mysteries of these movements over centuries. Our findings teach us that the future may be glimpsed in the sky above us -"

"Professor Trelawney did astrology with us!" said Parvati excitedly, raising her hand in front of her so that it stuck up in the air as she lay on her back. "Mars causes accidents and burns and things like that, and when it makes an angle to Saturn, like now -" she drew a right-angle in the air above her "- that means people need to be extra careful when handling hot things -"

"That," said Firenze calmly, "is human nonsense."

Parvati's hand fell limply to her side.

"Trivial hurts, tiny human accidents," said Firenze, as his hooves thudded over the mossy floor. "These are of no more significance than the scurryings of ants to the wide universe, and are unaffected by planetary movements."

"Professor Trelawney -" began Parvati, in a hurt and indignant voice.

"- is a human," said Firenze simply. "And is therefore blinkered and fettered by the limitations of your kind."

"Sibyll Trelawney may have Seen, I do not know," continued Firenze, and Harry heard the swishing of his tail again as he walked up and down before them, "but she wastes her time, in the main, on the self-flattering nonsense humans call fortune-telling. I, however, am here to explain the wisdom of centaurs, which is impersonal and impartial. We watch the skies for the great tides of evil or change that are sometimes marked there. It may take ten years to be sure of what we are seeing."

Firenze pointed to the red star directly above Harry.

"In the past decade, the indications have been that wizardkind is living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, bringer of battle, shines brightly above us, suggesting that the fight must soon break out again. How soon, centaurs may attempt to divine by the burning of certain herbs and leaves, by the observation of fume and flame…"

They did indeed burn sage and mallowsweet there on the classroom floor, and Firenze told them to look for certain shapes and symbols in the pungent fumes, but he seemed perfectly unconcerned that not one of them could see any of the signs he described, telling them that humans were hardly ever good at this, that it took centaurs years and years to become competent, and finished by telling them that it was foolish to put too much faith in such things, anyway, because even centaurs sometimes read them wrongly. His priority did not seem to be to teach them what he knew, but rather to impress upon them that nothing, not even centaurs' knowledge, was foolproof.

The bell rang right outside the classroom door and everyone jumped having completely forgotten they were still inside the castle, and quite convinced that they were really in the Forest. The class filed out, looking slightly perplexed.

* * *

Neville was studying at a table in the common room when he felt a sudden sense of doom creeping over him. He turned around and found the Weasley twins standing right behind him. They were both grinning in a way that made Neville want to run.

"Hello Neville." Fred greeted.

"You're coming with us." George said. They grabbed Neville by the arms and dragged him out of the common room, cackling the whole way.

"What do you think they're going to do with him?" Harry asked Ron. Ron looked up from his essay.

"I've learned by now that it's better not to know." He answered.

* * *

Luna had taken things well, really well. And after being tied to the wards through the Ravenclaw keystone, which looked like an eagle perched on a pile of books, she was apparently having a conversation with the castle about snorcacks.

Luna and Bree were waiting for the twins to show up with Neville in Hufflepuff's room. The portrait of Helga Hufflepuff reminded Bree of Professor Sprout and Mrs. Weasley. The twins brought Neville in a dropped him in front of the fireplace.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on!" Neville exclaimed as he stood up and dusted himself of. And so they told him about Hogwarts, old magic and bush magic, the difference between the two being that bush magic was more about basic survival and old magic was more about willing things to happen, and they told him that they were going to tie him to the wards through the Hufflepuff keystone.

"But I'm a Gryffindor!" Neville protested.

"It doesn't matter as long as you have some Hufflepuff traits, which you do. You're loyal and hard working so we're tying you to the badger." Bree said.

Neville stumbled into the common room a little while later and went back to studying.

"What did the twins do to you?" Harry asked.

"I can't tell you that or Bree will do horrible things to me. Horrible, horrible things." Neville answered. No one asked him anymore questions.

* * *

After about a week of keeping Umbridge out of the castle Bree deactivated the ward before the curse breakers were able to figure out exactly what they were dealing with. Umbridge spent days questioning students in her quest to uncover whoever was responsible for her banishment and expel them. Her investigation went nowhere and she was forced to give up.

* * *

It was the morning of April first when the Daily Prophet finally had something to report about the ten escaped Death Eaters. Augustus Rookwood had been found dead. His body had been found full of "little pieces of metal" with a note saying "Let's see the Order of the Phoenix do that!" Aunt Lisa really didn't like it when people took credit took credit for work that wasn't theirs.

Most of the students in the Great Hall didn't notice the headline right away. They were too distracted by the rubber fish that covered the walls of the Great Hall. The ceiling showed sharks and dolphins swimming overhead.

"Some Aprils Fools prank, huh?" Fred said as he sat down next to Bree.

"Must of taken all night to get those fish up there." George stated as he sat down on Bree's other side.

"Actually it only took about two hours, give or take." Bree replied, not looking up from the paper. Gringotts had had been defaced by a stylized three inside of an oval. The Third Option now had its own symbol, apparently.

"You should have told us." Fred stated.

"It's a Great April Fool prank." George continued.

"We would have helped." Fred finished.

Bree frowned and put away the paper. "I didn't do it for April Fools. I did it in celebration of a more important event that just so happens to be on April first." She said. Identical grins spread across the twins faces.

"Why, dear brother, I do believe that she's talking about our birthday." George said, wrapping an arm around Bree's shoulders. Neither twin noticed Bree's blush.

"Why I do believe you're right, brother." Fred replied, ruffling Bree's hair.

"Where'd you get all the fish from anyway?" George asked.

"My cousin Leo. He's able to get anything, cheap." Bree answered.

"Anything?" Fred echoed.

"Yeah, that reminds me, here." Bree held up a piece of paper. Fred took it.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Leo's contact information, just tell him I sent you and he'll be able to get you anything you need for your shop." Bree explained.

"Aww, she takes such good care of us Georgie." Fred said, ruffling Bree's hair again.

* * *

652. Not allowed to glue rubber fish to the walls.

* * *

Of course what birthday is complete without a party? That night there was a party in the Gryffindor room. It was as loud and fun as any other Gryffindor party and lasted well into the night. After the party finally wound down and most of the Gryffindors had stumbled up to bed except for those who had fallen asleep in the common room.

Bree was asleep and cuddled up to George's side on one of the couches.

"Fred." He whispered to his brother who had flopped onto a nearby couch. Fred sat up and blinked blearily at his twin.

"What?" he whispered back.

"I think we have a problem." George replied. "I think Lee might have been right."


	61. Year 5: Shut up Lee!

Fred stared at his twin for a moment before the words finally registered.

"What!" he exclaimed.

"Shhh! You're going to wake her up!" George hissed. Bree shifted slightly and put an arm around George, but she didn't wake up.

"Lee is not right. We do not like her like that. She's our friend. She's like a little sister, someone to carry on the legacy of trouble-making after you and I leave Hogwarts." Fred insisted.

"Maybe you feel that way, but I… I mean, Bree is clever, funny, and gorgeous and I think I might be in love with her." George replied. Fred stared at him.

"Well… I guess you'd be better for her than Dean." He said thoughtfully. "And if you got married she would actually be my little sister."

George flushed. "Isn't it a little early to be talking about marriage? I haven't even asked her on a date yet." He muttered.

"So take care of that tomorrow, but you should know, if you hurt her, I will kill you." Fred said darkly before lying down on the couch he was on and going to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, George had been awake for an hour and Bree showed no signs of waking up. Students were starting to come down from the dorms. A group of girls giggled as they walked by, then Lee showed up.

"George you lucky dog!" he snickered.

"Shut up Lee!" George exclaimed, turning red. The sound woke Bree up. She blinked sleepily and then buried her face in George's shoulder.

"Hey, come on. It's time to wake up." George said, nudging Bree. She groaned and sat up.

* * *

"Did you ask her out yet?" Fred asked his twin at dinner that evening.

"No." George answered.

"Are you going to?" Fred pressed.

"Yes."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"Tonight."

"You can't just-"

"_Tonight._"

* * *

"Bree, I need to talk to you." George said after dinner, leading Bree toward an empty corridor.

"Sure, what is it?" Bree inquired.

"Do you want to go to the next Hogsmade weekend with me?" George asked.

"But we always go together." Bree stated, confused.

"No I mean… Do you want to go on a date with me?" George said.

"A-a date?" Bree stammered, turning red.

"We've been friends for years and I really like you." George told her.

"You do?" Bree asked meekly.

"Of course I do. You're clever, funny, and beautiful and I really want to go on a date with you." George said.

"Ok. Yes, I'll go out with you." Bree replied. George smiled.

"Great."

* * *

"I was right!" Lee crowed the next day in the common room.

"Shut up Lee." Fred grumbled.

"You're in love with Bree." Lee said.

"Just because George feels that way doesn't mean I do. We're twins but it's not like we're the same person." Fred replied. Lee was silent a moment.

"I was half right." He declared.

"Shut up Lee."

* * *

Later that evening, Ron was staring vacantly into space. He was supposed to be studying with Harry and Hermione but had zoned out almost as soon as he sat down.

"What's wrong with him?" Seamus asked when he walked in.

"I dunno. He's been like that for an hour." Harry replied.

"Ron, Ron what's wrong?" Hermione asked, shaking Ron's shoulder. Ron suddenly came out of his stupor.

"Wha?" he mumbled.

"What's wrong, you were staring at the wall for an hour." Harry said.

"George and Bree are going on a date." Ron stated.

"Really? It's about time!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"It's been really obvious how much he likes her." Hermione explained.

"It has?" Harry inquired.

"Boys." Hermione muttered.

"So what's wrong with Bree and George going on a date?" Harry inquired.

"What if they hit it off? And get married? And have kids?" Ron said in horror. "My nieces and nephews would be hellspawn!"

"Oh Ron, they would not." Hermione told him.

"One half of the Terror Twins likes the Chaos Queen, what do you think is going to happen!" Ron exclaimed.

"Oh Ron," Hermione began, "I'm sure Bree will mature with age… even if the twins haven't yet." Ron ignored her.

"What if they ask me to babysit!" he shouted. Hermione just sighed.

* * *

When the next Hogsmade weekend came later that month, Fred and Lee could once again be found hiding in the bushes.

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here Lee." Fred stated.

"Actually I'm wondering why Professor Grimsley is here." Lee replied. They both turned to where Ben was hiding in a nearby bush.

"Bree's Aunt Lisa wants pictures of Bree's first date." Ben explained.

"What about her date with Dean?" Lee asked.

"Her first date with someone the family approves of." Ben clarified. There was a moment of silence.

"So why are you two here?" Ben asked.

"I'm here to make sure George respects all of the first date boundaries." Fred replied.

"I'm here because Fred threatened to do horrible things to me while I slept." Lee answered. "I really don't understand why we're doing this, it's not like you ever stalk Ginny on her dates."

"If Ginny was more like Bree than I would look out for her more." Fred responded.

"If Ginny was more like Bree than the school would be in ruins by now." Lee quipped. "Imagine if more people were more like Bree, the entire world would be engulfed by anarchy.

"Actually I'm told that Bree is a lot like her Aunt Lisa when she was younger, though Lisa has toned down the crazy since she had a kid."

"So we need George to get Bree pregnant so she'll be less insane." Lee mused.

"It's said that during her pregnancy Lisa made fifteen members of the Russian Mob cry for their mommies, castrated a businessman who accidently spilled his morning coffee her, scarred five busloads of school children for, and her violent mood swings forced her husband to go into hiding until the baby was born." Ben explained.

Lee stared at Ben in horror before turning to Fred.

"On second thought let's send Bree to a convent." He said.

* * *

"So where do you want to go first?" George asked Bree as they walked down the path to Hogsmade. "Please don't say Madam Puddifoot's." he added.

"Of course not. No one sane would ever want to go in that place." Bree replied.

"That would make most of the girls in our school insane, wouldn't it?" George asked.

"It's the hormones." Bree responded.

"Ah, that explains everthing." George said. Bree laughed.

"Let's go to Honeydukes." Bree suggested.

At Honeydukes Bree stocked up on chocolate to take back to Hogwarts. They went to the Three Broomsticks for lunch.

Madam Rosemerta gave them a booth in the back.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She said with suggestive wink. Both teens blushed.

At the end of the day Bree and George walked back to Hogwarts hand in hand.

"So, did you have a good time?" George asked.

"Of course I did. I always have a good time when I'm with you." Bree replied.

"Really?" George said.

"Really. I enjoy spending time with you. No matter what we do I always have fun." Bree told him. George smiled. In the bushes, Ben snapped pictures.

* * *

Bree was sitting in an elaborate throne surrounded by small piles of galleons, one of which she was using as a footstool, in the room of requirement waiting for Ben to show up.

"Alice has sent you more gold, I take it." Ben stated when he walked in.

"Yes, and you're late." Bree replied.

Ben sighed. "Dumbledore is trying to get Harry to resume occulumency lessons." He explained.

"What!" Bree exclaimed.

"He seems to believe that Snape will be less aggressive with his teaching methods from now on." Ben stated.

"I think I'll have to have a… chat with Snape." Bree responded.

Of course, Ben wouldn't let Bree out of lessons that easily and Bree was forced postpone confronting Snape until that evening.

Hogwarts was angry again and Bree could guess why. As she hurried down to the dungeons she ran into Luna and Neville.

"Hogwarts is quite upset." Luna commented.

"Someone is being hurt, right?" Neville questioned.

"Yeah." Bree answered. She focused on a ward. "Restrain Snape." She muttered as she hurried down the stairs.

"Did you just say "Snape"?" Neville asked in alarm.

"Yes I did Neville. This isn't the first time that this has happened." Bree replied. They were soon at the door to Snape's room. It swung open of its own accord, allowing Bree, Neville, and Luna to pass through. Inside Harry, looking tired and haggard, was gaping Snape who had gone as stiff as a board and was unable to talk.

"Are you alright Harry?" Neville asked.

"I'm fine Neville." Harry replied.

"Don't lie Harry." Bree reprimanded.

"He must have been confused by the wrackspurts." Luna commented. Bree sighed and turn to Snape.

"And once again, Professor, I find you here in this classroom after savagely attacking Harry's mind, ripping it open and pulling up memories in order to humiliate Harry." Bree stated.

"Though I suppose that's better than having your mind ripped opened and having information stuffed into it until your brain overloads and you go completely crazy and then you die young." She mused. "On the bright side I'm not completely crazy and I'm never going to reach the "die" part."

"Everyone dies eventually." Luna pointed out.

"Yes, yes Luna, we can discuss mortality later, for now we need to deal with Snape." Bree replied. "Now what would be a proper punishment of the second worst teachers in the school?" Bree started pacing the room. When she passed by the office door she saw a patch of shivering light dancing on the doorframe.

Bree opened the door and saw a bowl filled with a silverwhite substance.

"A Pensieve." Bree said, slightly surprised. "I've read about these." She picked it up and brought it into the classroom and set it on a desk.

"This is perfect." Bree said, grinning. "You've been watching Harry's worst memories, why don't we take a look at some of yours?" Bree felt something slam into her mental barriers. She let it through. Not-Bree grabbed it, gnawed on it a little, then shoved it back out. Bree turned to Snape.

"That wasn't very nice." She pouted before grinning and grabbing Harry, Neville, and Luna then trowing them headfirst into the Pensieve before going in herself.

They were falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as they went, and then -

They standing in the middle of the Great Hall, but the four house tables were gone. Instead, there were more than a hundred smaller tables, all facing the same way, at each of which sat a student, head bent low, scribbling on a roll of parchment. The only sound was the scratching of quills and the occasional rustle as somebody adjusted their parchment. It was clearly exam time.

Sunshine was streaming through the high windows on to the bent heads, which shone chestnut and copper and gold in the bright light. Snape had to be here somewhere… this was his memory…

And there he was, at a table right behind them. Snape-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy and was flopping on to the table, his hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchment as he scribbled. Bree moved around behind Snape and read the heading of the examination paper:

DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS - ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL

So Snape had to be fifteen or sixteen, around their own age. His hand was flying across the parchment; he had written at least a foot more than his closest neighbors, and yet his writing was minuscule and cramped.

"Five more minutes!"

The voice made them jump. Turning, they saw the top of Professor Flitwick's head moving between the desks a short distance away. Professor Flitwick was walking past a boy with untidy black hair… very untidy black hair…

Harry moved so quickly that, had he been solid, he would have knocked desks flying. Instead he seemed to slide, dreamlike, across two aisles and up a third. The back of the black-haired boy's head drew nearer and… he was straightening up now, putting down his quill, pulling his roll of parchment towards him so as to reread what he had written…

Harry stopped in front of the desk and gazed down at his fifteen-year-old father.

James yawned hugely and rumpled up his hair, making it even messier than it had been. Then, with a glance towards Professor Flitwick, he turned in his seat and grinned at a boy sitting four seats behind him.

Sirius gave James the thumbs-up. Sirius was lounging in his chair at his ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James's nor Harry's could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn't seem to have noticed. And two seats along from this girl was Remus Lupin. He looked rather pale and peaky (was the full moon approaching?)and was absorbed in the exam: as he reread his answers, he scratched his chin with the end of his quill, frowning slightly.

So that meant Wormtail had to be around here somewhere, too… and sure enough, there he was: a small, mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose. Wormtail looked anxious; he was chewing his fingernails, staring down at his paper, scuffing the ground with his toes.

Every now and then he glanced hopefully at his neighbors paper.

"Quills down, please!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "That means you too, Stebbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! Accio!"

Over a hundred rolls of parchment zoomed into the air and into Professor Flitwick's outstretched arms, knocking him backwards off his feet. Several people laughed. A couple of students at the front desks got up, took hold of Professor Flitwick beneath the elbows and lifted him back on to his feet.

"Thank you… thank you," panted Professor Flitwick. "Very well, everybody, you're free to go!"

Snape was a short way away, moving between the tables towards the doors to the Entrance Hall, still absorbed in his own exam paper. Round-shouldered yet angular, he walked in a twitchy manner that recalled a spider, and his oily hair was jumping about his face.

A gang of chattering girls separated Snape from James, Sirius and Lupin, and by planting himself in their midst, Bree managed to keep Snape in sight while straining her ears to catch the voices of James and his friends. She was curious.

"Did you like question ten, Moony?" asked Sirius as they emerged into the Entrance Hall.

"Loved it," said Lupin briskly. "Give five signs that identify the werewolf. Excellent question."

"D'you think you managed to get all the signs?" said James in tones of mock concern.

"Think I did," said Lupin seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. "One: he's sitting on my chair. Two: he's wearing my clothes. Three: his name's Remus Lupin."

Wormtail was the only one who didn't laugh.

"I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes and the tufted tail,' he said anxiously, "but I couldn't think what else -"

"How thick are you, Wormtail?" said James impatiently. "You run round with a werewolf once a month -"

"Keep your voice down," implored Lupin.

"So far this seems to be more like a chance for Harry to see what his Dad was like then punishment for Snape." Neville commented.

"Yep." Bree replied as they watched as Harry looked anxiously behind him again. Snape remained close by, still buried in his exam questions - but this was Snape's memory and Harry was sure that if Snape chose to wander off in a different direction once outside in the grounds, he, Harry, would not be able to follow James any further.

To his intense relief, however, when James and his three friends strode off down the lawn towards the lake, Snape followed, still poring over the exam paper and apparently with no fixed idea of where he was going. By keeping a little ahead of him, Harry managed to maintain a close watch on James and the others.

"Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake," Sirius said. "I'll be surprised if I don't get 'Outstanding' on it at least."

"Me too," said James. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a struggling Golden Snitch.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Nicked it," said James casually. He started playing with the Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away before seizing it again; his reflexes were excellent. Wormtail watched him in awe.

They stopped in the shade of a beech tree on the edge of the lake and threw themselves down on the grass. Harry looked over his shoulder yet again and saw, to his delight, that Snape had settled himself on the grass in the dense shadow of a clump of bushes. He was as deeply immersed in the OWL paper as ever, which left Harry free to sit down on the grass between the beech and the bushes and watch the foursome under the tree. The sunlight was dazzling on the smooth surface of the lake, on the bank of which the group of laughing girls who had just left the Great Hall were sitting, with their shoes and socks off, cooling their feet in the water.

Lupin had pulled out a book and was reading. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass, looking rather haughty and bored, but very handsomely so. James was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom further and further away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormtail was watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. James seemed to be enjoying the attention.

Harry's father had a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water's edge.

"Put that away, will you," said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, "before Wormtail wets himself with excitement."

Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned.

"If it bothers you," he said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would have stopped showing off.

"I'm bored," said Sirius. "Wish it was full moon."

"You might," said Lupin darkly from behind his book. "We've still got Transfiguration, if you're bored you could test me. Here…" and he held out his book.

But Sirius snorted. "I don't need to look at that rubbish, I know it all."

"This'll liven you up, Padfoot," said James quietly. "Look who it is…"

Sirius's head turned. He became very still, like a dog that has scented a rabbit.

"Excellent," he said softly. "Snivellus."

Snape was on his feet again, and was stowing the OWL paper in his bag. As he left the shadows of the bushes and set off across the grass, Sirius and James stood up.

Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting: Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows; Wormtail was looking from Sirius and James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face.

"All right, Snivellus?" said James loudly.

Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hand inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when James shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Snape's wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell with a little thud in the grass behind him. Sirius let out a bark of laughter.

"Impedimenta!" he said, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his own fallen wand.

Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained.

Snape lay panting on the ground. James and Sirius advanced on him, wands raised, James glancing over his shoulder at the girls at the water's edge as he went. Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" said James.

"I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment," said Sirius viciously. "There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word."

Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered shrilly.

Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes.

"You - wait," he panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, "you - wait!"

"Wait for what?" said Sirius coolly. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"

Snape let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with his wand ten feet away nothing happened.

"Wash out your mouth," said James coldly. "Scourgify!"

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him -

"Leave him ALONE!"

James and Sirius looked round. James's free hand immediately jumped to his hair.

It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes - Harry's eyes.

Harry's mother.

"All right, Evans?" said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature.

"Leave him alone," Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike.

"What's he done to you?"

"Well," said James, appearing to deliberate the point, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…"

Many of the surrounding students laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included, but Lupin, still apparently intent on his book, didn't, and nor did Lily.

"You think you're funny," she said coldly. "But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."

"I will if you go out with me, Evans," said James quickly. "Go on… go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

Behind him, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Snape was beginning to inch towards his fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as he crawled.

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid," said Lily.

"Bad luck, Prongs," said Sirius briskly, and turned back to Snape. "Oy!"

But too late; Snape had directed his wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James's face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about: a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of graying underpants.

Many people in the small crowd cheered; Sirius, James and Wormtail roared with laughter.

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, "Let him down!"

"Certainly," said James and he jerked his wand upwards; Snape fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Disentangling himself from his robes he got quickly to his feet, wand up, but Sirius said, "Locomotor mortis!" and Snape keeled over again at once, rigid as a board.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," said James earnestly.

"Take the curse off him, then!"

James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse.

"There you go," he said, as Snape struggled to his feet. "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus —"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Lily blinked.

"Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

"Apologize to Evans!" James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him.

"I don't want you to make him apologize," Lily shouted, rounding on James. "You're as bad as he is."

"What?" yelped James. "I'd NEVER call you a - you-know-what!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can - I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK."

She turned on her heel and hurried away.

"Evans!" James shouted after her. "Hey, EVANS!"

But she didn't look back.

"What is it with her?" said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him.

"Reading between the lines, I'd say she thinks you're a bit conceited, mate," said Sirius.

"Right," said James, who looked furious now, "right -"

There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside-down in the air.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"

But whether James really did take off Snapes pants, they never found out because Bree was done viewing the memory.

Back in the classroom a still restrained Snape was looking murderous.

"Release." Bree muttered. And just like that Snape was able to move.

"I see you've been enjoying yourselves." he growled. Bree eyed him coldly.

"I've gained some understanding about why you are what you are but," Bree paused, baring a set of sharp pointed teeth at Snape. "That does not justify punishing the son for the sins of the father."

"Let's go." Bree muttered before leaving. The Harry, Neville, and Luna followed her out.

* * *

Harry was acting distracted when they finally started working on Patronuses in the D.A. Everybody had been very keen to practice, though, as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different from producing it when confronted by something like a Dementor.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," said Cho brightly, watching her silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar around the Room of Requirement during their last lesson before Easter. "They're so pretty!"

"They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," said Harry patiently. "What we really need is a Boggart or something; that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the Boggart was pretending to be a Dementor -

"But that would be really scary!" said Lavender, who was shooting puffs of silver vapour out of the end of her wand. "And I still -can't - do it!" she added angrily.

Neville was having trouble, too. His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.

"You've got to think of something happy," Harry reminded him.

"I'm trying," said Neville miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat.

"Harry, I think I'm doing it"' yelled Seamus, who had been brought along to his first ever D.A. meeting by Dean.

"Look - ah -it's gone… but it was definitely something hairy, Harry!"

Hermione's Patronus, a shining silver otter, was gamboling around her.

"They are sort of nice, aren't they?" she said, looking at it fondly.

Bree's Patronus was a silver version of her dog Roman that stood firmly by her side. Bree felt a chill run up her spin before Hogwarts blasted a warning at her. Bree looked around the room, Luna and Neville appeared to have received the warning as well.

"What's wrong?" George asked as Bree dismissed her Patronus.

"Umbridge is coming. We need to get out of here." Bree replied.

Bree moved quickly toward Harry. At the same time Dobby came into the room, also moving toward Harry.

Hi, Dobby!" he said. "What are you - What's wrong?"

The elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking. The members of the D.A. closest to Harry had fallen silent; everybody in the room was watching Dobby. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before.

"Harry Potter, sir…" squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, "Harry Potter, sir… Dobby has come to warn you… but the house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

He ran head-first at the wall. Harry, who had some experience of Dobbys habits of self punishment, made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. Hermione and a few of the other girls let out squeaks of fear and sympathy.

"What's happened, Dobby?" Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself.

"Harry Potter… she… she…"

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist. Harry seized that, too.

"Who's 'she', Dobby?" he asked.

"It's Umbridge." Bree stated.

Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head on Harry's knees. Harry held him at arm's length.

"She's coming here and we need to move." Bree said. Dobby nodded again.

"Alright everyone, the toad fond us out, let's get out of here!" Bree shouted.

There was a mad dash for the door. In the pandemonium, Bree grabbed the list D.A. members a set it on fire before catching up with Fred and George. They almost ran directly in the toad herself and they were forced to duck into a closet. It was a very cramped closet.

"Who's hand is that?" Bree asked.

"Sorry." Fred muttered.

They rearranged themselves and ended up with Bree sandwiched between the twins. She was pressed up against George's chest and she could feel Fred's breathe on her neck.

They heard a shot of "PROFESSOR! I've got one!"

"It's him!" a muffled voice the three teens were sure was Umbridge replied. "Draco, excellent, oh, very good - fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here… stand up, Potter!"

"You hop along and see if you can round up any more of them, Draco," she said. "Tell the others to look in the library - anybody out of breath - check the bathrooms, Miss Parkinson can do the girls' ones - off you go - and you," she added in her softest, most dangerous voice, as Malfoy walked away, "you can come with me to the Headmasters office, Potter."

Bree sighed and rested her head against George's shoulder.

"They caught Harry." She muttered.

The three troublemakers stayed quiet until they were sure the coast was clear. The closet door opened and the three teens tumbled out. Bree ended up lying on Fred's chest with George propping himself up over both of them.

"Fred, George, Bree!" Lee's voice called from around the corner. He soon appeared at the end of the hall. "Oh there you-" He stopped and stared for a moment.

"I was right!" he shouted.

"Shut up Lee!" the twins yelled.

* * *

**I would like to credit the anonymous reviewer known only as "Guest" for the terms Terror Twins and Chaos Queen. They amuse me greatly.**


	62. Year 5: Departure

When Bree burned the list part of it survived. It had been badly damaged by smoke and fire and the only thing that could be read were the letters "D" and "A" which the Minister of Magic decided that those letters stood for "Dumbledore's Army" despite Harry's protests that it stood for "Defense Association." So instead of Harry getting expelled, Dumbledore left the school, which resulted in the following notice.

BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.

Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic

The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where you went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details may have gone awry in the retelling (Bree overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St. Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head) it was surprising how accurate the rest of their information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Harry and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office and, as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harry found himself besieged with requests to give a first-hand account.

"Dumbledore will be back before long," said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to Harry's story. "They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me -" he dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to lean closer to him to hear "- that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her." Ernie smirked. "Apparently she had a right little tantrum."

"Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Heads office," said Hermione viciously, as they walked up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall. "Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old -"

"Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?"

Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, closely followed by Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight with malice.

"Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff," he drawled.

"It's only teachers who can dock points from houses, Malfoy," said Ernie at once.

"Yeah, we're prefects, too, remember?" snarled Ron.

"I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King," sneered Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.

"But members of the Inquisitorial Squad -"

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger," said Malfoy, pointing towards a tiny silver 'I' on his robes just beneath his prefect's badge. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points… so, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new Headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. Weasley, your shirts untucked, so I'll have another five for that. Oh yeah, I forgot, you're Mudbloods, Granger, Smith, so you each get ten off for that."

Bree grinned. "Malfoy, you're a jerk and a racist, so that will be… all the points from Slyterin." She said.

"You can't do that!" Draco protested.

"Draco, Draco, Draco." Bree chastised, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him towards the giant hour-glasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the house-points. "You haven't even scratched the surface of what I can do."

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upwards, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs, but that was nothing compared to what happed to the Slytherin hourglass. All of the emeralds in the lower bulb moved upward until it was left empty.

"What? How!" Draco exclaimed.

"I am all powerful!" Bree shouted before laughing manically. Draco fled, Crabbe and Goyle following him.

"Noticed, have you?" said Fred's voice. He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione, Bree, and Ernie in front of the hour-glasses.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said George. "What the?" he said when he caught sight of the Slytherin hourglass.

"Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points," said Harry. "And then Bree docked him all of the points from Slytherin.

"What did you mean, 'tried'?" said Ron quickly.

"He never managed to get all the words out," said Fred, "due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

Hermione looked very shocked.

"But you'll get into terrible trouble!"

"Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him," said Fred coolly. "Anyway… we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."

"Have you ever?" asked Hermione.

"Course we have," said George. "Never been expelled, have we?"

"We've always known where to draw the line," said Fred.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally," said George.

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," said Fred.

"But now?" said Ron tentatively.

"Well, now -" said George.

"- what with Dumbledore gone -" said Fred.

"- we reckon a bit of mayhem —" said George.

"— is exactly what our dear new Head deserves," said Fred.

"You mustn't!" whispered Hermione. "You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!"

"You don't get it, Hermione, do you?" said Fred, smiling at her. "We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway," he checked his watch, "phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch, if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

"Anything to do with what?" said Hermione anxiously.

"You'll see," said George. "Run along, now."

Fred and George turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.

"I think we should get out of here, you know," said Hermione nervously. "Just in case"

"Yeah, all right," said Ron, and the three of them moved towards the doors to the Great Hall, but Harry had barely glimpsed the day's ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and, turning, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with Filch the caretaker.

He took several hasty steps backwards; Filch was best viewed at a distance.

"The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter," he leered.

"I didn't do it," said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch's jowls wobbled with silent laughter.

"Guilty conscience, eh?" he wheezed. "Follow me."

Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking worried. He shrugged, and followed Filch back into the Entrance Hall, against the tide of hungry students.

Bree went and sat down at the Gryffindor table and began eating. A little while later… BOOM! Bree dashed out to the Entrance Hall to see what was going on.

Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went; shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers; rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord; firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere you looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer he watched.

Bree grinned and bounced in excitement. Fred and George had really outdone themselves. Soon Flich and Umbridge had run down from upstairs. They stopped halfway down the stairs and gaped in horror at the scene.

One of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to maneuver; it whirled towards Umbridge and Filch with a sinister 'wheeeeeeeeee'.

They both yelled with fright and ducked, and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape towards the second floor.

"Hurry, Filch, hurry!" shrieked Umbridge, "they'll be all over the school unless we do somethin - Stupefy"

A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow; she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the next painting, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her.

Bree skipped over to a tapestry that concealed a door and slipped through it to find Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge and Filch's yells and quaking with suppressed mirth. Harry slipped in just after Bree did.

"Impressive," Harry said quietly, grinning. "Very impressive… you'll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem…"

"Cheers," whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. "Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next… they multiply by ten every time you try."

"That's amazing!" Bree exclaimed.

"Yeah, and it wasn't really difficult to-" the rest of what George was going to say was cut off when Bree grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him in close, and kissed him enthusiastically. When she let him go she hugged Fred, leaving George looking rather dazed.

"You two are completely brilliant!" Bree exclaimed before turning to Harry.

"Let's go, we're going to be late for our next class." She said. "See you two later." She waved goodbye to Fred and George as she pushed Harry out the door, leaving the twins alone.

"Did Bree just kiss me?" George asked after a moment.

"Yeah." Fred replied.

"Because of fireworks?"

"Yep."

"… Let's go whip up a new batch."

* * *

The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers didn't seem to mind them very much.

"Dear, dear," said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the Headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"

The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as Headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and they were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags a disheveled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick's classroom.

"Thank you so much, Professor!" said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. "I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether or not I had the authority."

Beaming, he closed his classroom door in her snarling face.

Fred and George were heroes that night in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione fought her way through the excited crowd to congratulate them.

"They were wonderful fireworks," she said admiringly.

"Thanks," said George, looking both surprised and pleased. "Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock; we're going to have to start again from scratch now."

"It was worth it, though," said Fred, who was taking orders from clamouring Gryffindors. "If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe…"

Hermione returned to the table where Harry and Ron were sitting staring at their schoolbags as though hoping their homework would spring out and start doing itself.

"Oh, why don't we have a night off?" said Hermione brightly, as a silver-tailed Weasley rocket zoomed past the window. "After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then."

"Are you feeling all right?" Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief.

"Now you mention it," said Hermione happily, "d'you know… I think I'm feeling a bit… rebellious."

When the party finally wound down, Fred and Angelina could be found on one of the sofas, asleep and leaning on each other. On a nearby couch, George had his arm around Bree.

"So, um, about that kiss earlier…" George murmured. Bree blushed.

"Ah, sorry about that. I just got really excited." She muttered.

"It's fine." George said softly before giving Bree a kiss on the cheek.

* * *

BANG!

Bree woke up with a start. Fred and Angelina somehow fell off of their sofa and ended up on top of each other on the floor. George rushed over to the window.

"Looks like one of the Catherine wheels hit a rocket." He said.

"Awesome!" Bree exclaimed as glittering pink and silver winged piglets were now soaring past the windows of Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

"I am so bored right now." Bree complained. It was the third day of Easter Holidays and Bree, Luna, Neville, Fred, and George were gathered in Gryffindor's secret room.

"We could talk about mortality." Luna suggested.

"Why would we want to talk about that?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Bree said we could." Luna replied.

"When?" George questioned.

"When Luna, Neville, and I confronted Snape the other day." Bree explained.

"It was right after you talked about having your mind ripped open." Neville stated.

"Yeah, it was." Bree agreed. Everyone stared at her. Well everyone except Luna who was staring at something on the ceiling.

"What?" Bree asked.

"So did you have your mind ripped open?" Neville inquired.

"Oh, yeah. It's not that big of a deal." Bree said with a shrug.

"Not a big deal!" George exclaimed. "Bree, people who attack the minds of others go to Azkaban."

"Yeah, people, I don't think that law applies to parasites." Bree muttered.

"Parasite?" Fred questioned. And so Bree told them about the psychic worm and showed them the scar hidden in her hairline on the back of her neck from the surgery that removed the worm.

"So you weren't making up the Weeping Angels?" Neville asked.

"In my defense, I thought they were fictional." Bree replied.

* * *

Harry had been rather subdued since he saw Snape's memory. It reminded Bree of the old saying "Don't meet your heroes." Or it this case "Don't view memories of your father and godfather when they were fifteen because all fifteen year olds are stupid compared to adults. But that second one is way too long so Bree just stuck to the first one.

Bree tried to talk to Harry to try to bring him out of his funk. But Harry wasn't interested in talking to anyone other than Sirius, which he couldn't since the floo network was being monitored.

* * *

It was the day before the end of Easter break. George and Bree were in an unused classroom.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Bree asked.

"Fred and I have a shop all ready in Diagon Alley." George explained.

"That's great!" Bree exclaimed.

"Yeah, we couldn't have done it with the money you and Harry gave us." George said.

"I was happy to do it. You and Fred are really inventive. I knew you could get a business started. But… now that you have, I guess you two will be leaving soon." Bree replied

"Yeah, we're leaving tomorrow. We plan on making a big exit." George explained. He grabbed Bree's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Listen, I was thinking… you could come with us."

"Come with you?" Bree repeated.

"Yeah, you could work at the shop with me… and Fred." George suggested.

"George, that sounds wonderful, but I can't. I'm only fifteen." Bree replied. George sighed and let go of Bree.

"Yeah, you're right. I just…" he sighed again. "We're not going to see each other every day anymore. I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too. You're one of the most important people in my life." Bree said.

"I feel the same way about you." George replied. "I guess we had better make the most of the time we have left."

"Yeah, we should." Bree agreed before she kissed him.

* * *

"George, you in he-" Lee stopped mid-sentence and stared into the unused classroom Bree and George were in for a moment before closing the door. After a minute or so he opened the door again.

"You want me to get Fred so he's doesn't feel left out later?" he asked.

"Shut up Lee!"

* * *

As though to underline the importance of their upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared on the tables in Gryffindor Tower shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read:

All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below.

Bree looked down the list and found that she was expected in Professor McGonagall's office at half past twelve on Monday. Bree was the only fifth year that didn't bother looking at any of the careers information.

When George and Bree met up with Fred in the common room Harry, Ron, and Hermione immersed in pamphlets.

"Where have you two been all day?" Fred asked. George shrugged.

"We were talking." He answered.

"Really?" Lee chimed in. "It must have been pretty hard to talk with the way you were-"

"Lee, if you finish that sentence terrible things will happen to you." Bree interrupted. Lee wisely shut up.

Fred stared at his blushing brother for a moment before joining Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Hey, Ginny's had a word with us about you," said Fred, stretching out his legs on the table in front of them and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off on to the floor. "She says you need to talk to Sirius?"

"What?" said Hermione sharply, freezing with her hand halfway towards picking up MAKE A BANG AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL ACCIDENTS AND CATASTROPHES.

"Yeah…" said Harry, trying to sound casual, "yeah, I thought I'd like -"

"Don't be so ridiculous," said Hermione, straightening up and looking at him as though she could not believe her eyes. "With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?"

"Except Aries." Bree commented as she flopped into a chair. "She tried to get him once and it didn't work out well for her."

"So Harry could use him then." Hermione said. Bree shrugged.

"If you can find him." She said.

"What do mean?" Hermione asked.

"He's spends a lot of time with his lady owl friend in the Forbidden Forest. He shows up on Wednesdays, Friday's, and Sunday's." Bree explained. "But you if go into the forest and find him he'll probably take a letter."

"I wanted to speak to Sirius in person." Harry put in.

"Can't help you there." Bree replied.

"Well, we think we can help," said George, stretching and smiling. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"

"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" continued Fred."No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's studying, too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do."

He gave Hermione a sanctimonious little nod. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness

"But it's business as usual from tomorrow," Fred continued briskly. "And if we're going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?"

"Yes, but still," said Hermione, with an air of explaining something very simple to somebody very obtuse, "even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?"

"Umbridge's office," said Harry quietly.

He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could come up with no alternative. Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own.

"Are - you - insane?" said Hermione in a hushed voice.

Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade and was watching the conversation warily.

"I don't think so," said Harry, shrugging.

"And how are you going to get in there in the first place?"

Harry was ready for this question.

"Sirius's knife," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock," said Harry.

"So even if she's bewitched the door so Alohomora won't work, which I bet she has"

"What do you think about this?" Hermione demanded of Ron.

"I dunno," said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. "If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?"

"Spoken like a true friend and Weasley," said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. "Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if everybody's in the corridors - Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office — I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?" he said, looking at George.

"Easy," said George.

"What sort of diversion is it?" asked Ron.

"You'll see, little bro'," said Fred, as he and George got up again. "At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow."

* * *

The next day Snape seemed to have decided to act as though Harry were invisible. Harry was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. At the end of the lesson he scooped some of the potion into a flask, corked it and took it up to Snape's desk for marking, feeling that he might at last have scraped an E.

He had just turned away when he heard a smashing noise. Malfoy gave a gleeful yell of laughter.

Harry whipped around. His potion sample lay in pieces on the floor and Snape was surveying him with a look of gloating pleasure.

"Whoops," he said softly. "Another zero, then, Potter."

Harry was too incensed to speak. He strode back to his cauldron, intending to fill another flask and force Snape to mark it, but saw to his horror that the rest of the contents had vanished.

"I'm sorry!" said Hermione, with her hands over her mouth. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I thought you'd finished, so I cleared up!"

Bree bared her teeth at Snape as her pupils changed into catlike slits. Snape took a step back. He blinked, and in that instant Bree reverted to normal.

* * *

"Hello Professor." Bree greeted with she arrived at Professor McGonagall's office.

"Hello Smith, you're right on time" she said briskly, but as she spoke, somebody else sniffed from the corner.

Bree looked around.

Professor Umbridge was sitting there, a clipboard on her knee, a fussy little pie-frill around her neck and a small, horribly smug smile on her face.

"Sit down, Smith," said Professor McGonagall tersely. Her hands shook slightly as she shuffled the many pamphlets littering her desk.

Bree sat down with her back to Umbridge.

"Well, Smith, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years," said Professor McGonagall. "Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?"

"Well, my current plan for the future is to cause widespread chaos and panic through the liberal use of flying simians." Bree stated.

"Smith, this is serious." McGonagall replied tersely. Bree sighed.

"I am probably going to work at my Aunt's company once I finish school." She said.

"Your Aunt is a muggle, correct?" McGonagall inquired.

"Yes." Bree answered, behind her Umbridge let out a disdainful snort.

"What kind of company does your Aunt run?" McGonagall inquired.

"Imports and exports." Bree answered.

"So she's a merchant?" McGonagall clarified.

"Yes." Bree replied. "And since I'll be doing work that doesn't necessarily require magic I can pretty much pick and choose which classes I want to take.

"So there isn't any work in the magical world you'd be interested in?" McGonagall inquired.

"Well," Bree began, a grin spreading across her face, "The twins plan on opening a shop as soon as they leave Hogwarts. My cousin Alice has already turned a profit with what she is doing in America, and speaking of America they could always use hunters, granted that's not exactly a job you choose, you just sort of fall into it."

"I'm afraid that I'm not quite sure what you mean by "hunter."" McGonagall replied.

"Oh right. Well in America there's a big problem with attacks by Supernatural creatures. The U.S. doesn't have the ancient wards that keep dangerous creatures subdued." Bree explained. "You don't get Wendigos or Violent Spirits in the U.K. America dosen't have wards so there's werewolves and vampires that are a lot nastier then the kind you have to deal with here. There are also arachnes, ghouls, skinwalkers and a whole lot more, including creatures from overseas that tagged along with immigrants." Bree paused and stretched.

"So you see, hunters are people who hunt and kill dangerous creatures. It doesn't pay well and there's a rather high mortality rate, so people don't really choose to become hunters. Even so the hunting community is rather large." She continued.

Professor Umbridge gave a cough.

"If no one wants to be a hunter than how can the hunting community be large?" she asked.

"Hunting is a family business. At some point in the family's history someone lost a person close to them after a creature attacked, so that someone began hunting dark creatures and taught their children to hunt dark creatures." Bree answered.

"So you're interested in killing dark creatures?" Umbridge inquired. Bree thought she heard a tiny bit of approval in her voice, which wasn't surprising considering what Bree knew about Umbridge.

"Not exactly." Bree answered. "But I have a big family, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that one of them will be killed by some kind of horrible creature."

McGonagall sighed.

"You can go, Smith." She said.

* * *

377. "To cause widespread chaos and panic through the liberal use of flying simians" is not a goal for the future.

* * *

"It's almost time. Fred and I will be out of here soon." George stated. Classes were over for the day and Bree and George were waiting for Fred to show up.

"I guess this is goodbye then." Bree said before passionately kissing George.

A minute or so later Fred rounded the corner.

"So are we going to do this, or are you just going to snog Bree all day?" he quipped. The young couple broke apart.

* * *

Students panicked and chaos reigned. Fred and George had turned Gregory the Smarmy's corridor into a swamp. It was awesome. Some students fell in and were pulled out covered in sticky goo similar to stinksap.

The twins were soon cornered in the Entrance Hall. It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring; teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down at Fred and George who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered.

"So!" said Umbridge triumphantly

"So - you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear.

Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting… oh, let me do it now…"

"Very good, Argus," she said. "You two," she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what?" said Fred. "I don't think we are."

He turned to his twin.

"George," said Fred, "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said George lightly. A grin spread across Bree's face.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred.

"Definitely," said George.

And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together:

"Accio brooms!"

There was a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners; they turned left, streaked down the stairs and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the silent, watchful crowd.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley - Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And Peeves, who had never taken an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

* * *

**Go read Nick Cronwell's ****The Raven and the Cursed Wand**. I'm letting him use Bree as a supporting character.


	63. Year 5: Interrupted Examination

The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom was retold so often over the next few days that you could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms and pelt her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. Harry frequently heard students saying things like, "Honestly some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place," or else, "One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley."

Fred and George had made sure nobody was likely to forget them too soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing.

Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms and Bree rented small boats out to students that didn't want to deal with Filch, so everyone really.

Teachers like McGonagall or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Fred and Georges Wildfire Whiz-bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle.

Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umbridge's office door, through which Fred and George's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their masters. Filch fitted a new door and removed Harry's Firebolt to the dungeons where, it was rumored, Umbridge had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, her troubles were far from over.

Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge when she entered and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers.

Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.

Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them he never knew which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members.

Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes; Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day as she had sprouted antlers.

Meanwhile, it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers or else spout blood from both nostrils.

Shrieking with rage and frustration, she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering from 'Umbridge -itis'. After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.

Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside a suit of armor, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Peeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and George's departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "It unscrews the other way."

Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet; he remained confused and disorientated and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.

As for our favorite Queen of Chaos, Bree had taken to the rampant disorder like a fish to water. The only staff members that cared about restoring order were Flich and Umbridge and with almost every student who wasn't a Slytherin adding to the chaos their efforts to control the students were mostly in vain since they were only two people, and Bree took advantage of the situation to do things that she would normally have never gotten away with.

Over the course of the first week she replaced Umbridge's kitten plates with toad plates, turned Umbridge's office into a pond so that she would "feel more at home", did the Macarena on the staff table, turned a second floor hallway into a giant slip and slide, wore a t-shirt that said "Silence is golden. Duct Tape is gray, so shut up or in the closet you'll stay", cornered a group of young Slytherins and told them, in great detail, about the dietary habits of hagfish (the words "rotting whale carcass juice" may have been used), and coated bars of soap with icy-hot and left them in the showers, an act that was later described as "Just plain evil." And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

* * *

248. Not allowed to do the Macarena in front of the staff table.

325. Not allowed to replace Umbridge's kitten plates with toad plates

277. Not allowed to wear a t-shirt that says "Silence is golden. Duct Tape is gray, so shut up or in the closet you'll stay."

435. Not allowed to make a slip and slide down the hallway.

451. Not allowed to tell people about the dietary habits of hagfish.

597. Not allowed to coat bars of soap with icy-hot then leave them in the showers.

651. Not allowed to turn Umbridge's office into a pond so that "She'll feel more at home."

* * *

Bree enlisted help from the house elves. They were not happy with Umbridge, in fact, the hated her and wanted her gone.

Bree grinned as she surveyed the mass of house elves gathered in the kitchen.

"Alright!" she exclaimed "Let the lessons begin!"

That evening in the Great Hall as people were eating when peppy techno music started up. All of the house elves appeared with a pop and started dancing as a high pitched female voice started to sing.

We wonder, are you ready to join us now?

Hands in the air, we will show you how

Come and try, Caramell will be your guide

So come on move your hips

Singing woa-oa-oa

Look at YouTube clips do it oh-la-la

You and me, can sing this melody

The staff and most of the students stared as the house elves waved their hands and shook their hips. Some muggleborns, including Bree, joined in.

"You can't hear the song and not do the dance!" a first year Hufflepuff explained to her confused friends.

When the song was finally over the house elves bowed and popped away.

Over the next few days students in the Great Hall were treated to dinner and a show. There was house elf belly dancing, a conga line that many of the students joined. Their last performance they sung the most horrifying song of all time, "It's a Small World After All."

One day Bree had herded a group of first Years into an empty classroom.

"Now gather 'round firstees, today we're going to learn "The Ferret Song."

Later that day, Hermione rounded a corner and heard a chorus of first years.

"An apple pie,

A bright blue sky,

A breezy meadow in July..

An ice cream bar,

A shooting star,

The sound of a steel guitar.."

"Aww, that's cute." Hermione said.

"I love the sound of rain,

Wearing a hat and cane,

Tiffany window panes lovely to see..

Frost on a windowsill,

The feel of a dollar bill.

Vacations in Brazil feel me with glee..

These are all the little things that make me smile,

This is all the stuff that makes life worthwhile.

Everybody knows the holocaust was a lie,

So let's sing about the things we like and don't be shy.."

"Wait, what was that about a holocaust?" Hermione asked.

"A strip of lace,

A pretty face,

Eugenics really makes the case.

Counting sheeps in froggy leaps,

Touching Draco inappropriately while he sleeps.."

"Stop singing!" Hermione shrieked.

"I love the feel of grain,

The screams of a man in pain.

Blood coming down like rain showering me.

That everlasting thrill during the final kill,

Body dumped in a landfill, got off scott free."

Hermione could only gape in horror.

"These are all the little things that make me smile,

This is all the stuff that makes life worthwhile..

One day i will eat your brain and it'll be great,

So let's sing about the things we like and meet your fate..!"

On the next Hogsmade weekend it was discovered that the children of Hogsmade had somehow learned the song.

* * *

207. Not allowed to teach the house elves to Caramelldansen during mealtimes.

259. Not allowed to teach the house elves to belly dance.

260. Not allowed to belly dance during class.

385. Not allowed to teach the house elves to sing "It's a Small World After All."

405. Not allowed to teach the house elves to conga through the Great Hall.

411. Not allowed to teach first years "The Ferret Song."

573. Not allowed to corrupt the house elves.

- or the first years.

- or the small children in Hogsmade.

* * *

The final match of the Quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was to take place on the last weekend of May. Although Slytherin had been narrowly defeated by Hufflepuff in their last match, Gryffindor were not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course nobody said it to him) to Ron's abysmal goal-keeping record.

Ron, however, seemed to have found a new optimism.

"I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?" he told Harry and Hermione grimly over breakfast on the morning of the match. "Nothing to lose now, is there?"

"You know," said Hermione, as she, Bree, and Harry walked down to the pitch a little later in the midst of a very excitable crowd, "I think Ron might do better without Fred and George around. They never exactly gave him a lot of confidence."

Luna Lovegood overtook them with what appeared to be a live eagle perched on top of her head.

They found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, clear day; Ron could not wish for better.

Lee Jordan, who had been very dispirited since Fred and George had left, was commentating as usual. As the teams zoomed out on to the pitch he named the players with something less than his usual gusto.

"… Bradley… Davies… Chang," he said.

"And they're off!" said Lee. "And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Ravenclaw Captain Davies with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet as well… he's going straight for goal! He's going to shoot - and - and -" Lee swore very loudly. "And he's scored."

"Harry" said a hoarse voice. "Hermione…"

They looked round and saw Hagrid's enormous bearded face sticking between the seats.

Apparently, he had squeezed his way all along the row behind, for the first- and second-years he had just passed had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Hagrid was bent double as though anxious not to be seen, though he was still at least four feet taller than everybody else.

"Listen," he whispered, "can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?"

Hagrid's nose was gently dripping blood. His eyes were both blackened. Harry had not seen him this close-up since his return to the school; he looked utterly woebegone.

"Course," said Harry at once, "course we'll come."

"I'm going to stay here and support Ron, but you can tell me all about it later." Bree replied.

Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid left and then the most amazing thing happened, Ron blocked one of the Ravenclaw chaser's from scoring. The student's in the Gryffindor stands went wild. Ravenclaw didn't score again for the entire game.

The game ended when Ginny caught the snitch. Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup and the students started singing.

"Weasley is our King, Weasley is our King, He didn't let the Quaffle in, Weasley is our King. Weasley can save anything, He never leaves a single ring, That's why Gryffindors all sing, Weasley is our King."

The crowd hoisted Ron onto their shoulders and carried him back to the castle.

"HARRY! HERMIONE!" yelled Ron when he saw his two friends, waving the silver Quidditch cup in the air and looking quite beside himself. "WE DID IT! WE WON!"

They beamed up at him as he passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Ron's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put him down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall.

* * *

Ron's euphoria at helping Gryffindor scrape the Quidditch cup was such that he couldn't settle to anything next day. All he wanted to do was talk over the match.

As it was another fine, warm day, they persuaded him to join them in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the lake, where they had less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Ron was not particularly keen on this idea at first - he was thoroughly enjoying being patted on the back by every Gryffindor who walked past his chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of 'Weasley is our King' - but after a while he agreed that some fresh air might do him good.

They spread their books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Ron talked them through his first save of the match for what felt like the dozenth time.

"Well, I mean, I'd already let in that one of Davies's, so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Bradley came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought - you can do this! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because he looked like he was aiming for the right goalhoop - my right, obviously, his left - but I had a funny feeling that he was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left - his right, I mean - and - well - you saw what happened," he concluded modestly, sweeping his hair back quite unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to them — a bunch of gossiping third-year Hufflepuffs — had heard him.

"Ron, shut up. I want to hear about what Hagrid showed Harry and Hermione last night." Bree snapped from where she had flopped on the grass.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"They left after the first goal." Bree stated.

Ron's carefully ruffled hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. "You didn't watch?" he said faintly, looking from one to the other. "You didn't see me make any of those saves?"

"Well - no," said Hermione, stretching out a placatory hand towards him. "But Ron, we didn't want to leave — we had to!"

"Yeah?" said Ron, whose face was growing rather red. "How come?"

"It was Hagrid," said Harry. "He decided to tell us why he's been covered in injuries ever since he got back from the giants. He wanted us to go into the Forest with him, we had no choice, you know how he gets. Anyway…"

The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Ron's indignation had been replaced by a look of total incredulity because Hagrid had brought his brother, a giant, from the giant colonies and was hiding him in the forbidden forest.

"He brought one back and hid it in the Forest?"

"Yep," said Harry grimly.

"No," said Ron, as though by saying this he could make it untrue. "No, he can't have."

"Well, he has," said Hermione firmly. "Grawp's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and knows me," she snorted, "as Hermy."

Ron gave a nervous laugh.

"And Hagrid wants us to…?"

"Teach him English, yeah," said Harry.

"He's lost his mind," said Ron in an almost awed voice.

"Yes," said Hermione irritably, turning a page of Intermediate Transfiguration and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses. "Yes, I'm starting to think he has. But, unfortunately, he made Harry and me promise."

"Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all," said Ron firmly. "I mean, come on… we've got exams and we're about that far -" he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger almost touching "- from being chucked out as it is. And anyway… remember Norbert? Remember Aragog? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Hagrid's monster mates?"

"I know, it's just that - we promised," said Hermione in a small voice.

Ron smoothed his hair flat again, looking preoccupied.

"Well," he sighed, "Hagrid hasn't been sacked yet, has he? He's hung on this long, maybe he'll hang on till the end of term and we won't have to go near Grawp at all."

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last.

Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams.

Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their study habits.

"How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" he demanded of Harry and Ron as they queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"I dunno," said Ron. "A few."

"More or less than eight?"

"Less, I s'pose," said Ron, looking slightly alarmed.

"I'm doing eight," said Ernie, puffing out his chest. "Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eights my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday - only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday -"

Harry was deeply thankful that Professor Sprout ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had found a different way to induce panic.

"Of course, it's not what you know," he was heard to tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams were to start, "it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years — old Griselda Marchbanks - we've had her round for dinner and everything…"

'"All the points Draco, all the points!" Bree exclaimed. Once again Slytherin was left without a single point. No one had figured out how she was able to take points.

Meanwhile, a flourishing black-market trade in aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years.

They received their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during their next Transfiguration lesson.

"As you can see," Professor McGonagall told the class as they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, "your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory exams in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night.

"Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbor at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Gryffindor. Our new - Headmistress —has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that cheating will be punished most severely - because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmistress's new regime at the school -"

Professor McGonagall gave a tiny sigh.

"- however, that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about."

"Please, Professor," said Hermione, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?"

"An owl will be sent to you sometime in July" said Professor McGonagall.

"Excellent," said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper, "so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays."

Their first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. Harry agreed to test Hermione after lunch on Sunday, but regretted it almost at once; she was very agitated and kept snatching the book back from him to check that she had got the answer completely right, finally hitting him hard on the nose with the sharp edge of Achievements in Charming.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?" he said firmly, handing the book back to her, his eyes watering.

Meanwhile, Ron was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly; Seamus Finnigan was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Parvati and Lavender, who were practicing basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table. Bree was singing the Ferret Song.

Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Harry and Ron did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. Hermione, on the other hand, kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. Ron was just telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate.

"Oh, my goodness," she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. "Is that them? Is that the examiners?"

Harry and Ron whipped around on their bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall they could see Umbridge standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umbridge looked rather nervous.

Shall we go and have a closer look?" said Ron.

Harry, Hermione, and Bree nodded and they hastened towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall, slowing down as they stepped over the threshold to walk sedately past the examiners. Harry thought Professor Marchbanks must be the tiny, stooped witch with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umbridge was speaking to her deferentially. Professor Marchbanks seemed to be a little deaf; she was answering Professor Umbridge very loudly considering they were only a foot apart.

"Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!" she said impatiently. "Now, I haven't heard from Dumbledore lately!" she added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful he might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. "No idea where he is, I suppose?"

"None at all," said Umbridge, shooting a malevolent look at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were now dawdling around the foot of the stairs as Ron pretended to do up his shoelace. Bree, however, stared at Umbridge with a look that said "Yes, I'm eavesdropping, what are you going to do about it?" "But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough."

"I doubt it," shouted tiny Professor Marchbanks, "not if Dumbledore doesn't want to be found! I should know… examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs… did things with a wand I'd never seen before."

"Yes… well…" said Professor Umbridge as Harry, Ron and Hermione dragged their feet up the marble staircase as slowly as they dared, Bree rolled her eyes at them, "let me show you to the staff room. I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey."

It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far. It might have had something to do with Bree singing the song that never ends.

While the other students were freaking out over charms, Bree was rather flippant about the whole thing, granted she was probably the only one that already had job opportunities lined up.

Everyone went straight to the common room when the day was over and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day, except for Bree who was trying to teach Aries to tap-dance.

The next day Bree did well on her written exam, but when she was asked to vanish a kitten during the practical she shouted "Look over there!" and slipped the kitten into her pocket.

They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday; and then, on Thursday, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Bree had a great time performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall.

On Friday, Bree, Harry and Ron had a day off while Hermione sat her Ancient Runes exam, and as they had the whole weekend in front of them the boys permitted themselves a break from revision.

They stretched and yawned beside the open window, through which warm summer air was wafting as they played wizard chess, when the portrait hole opened and Hermione clambered in, looking thoroughly bad-tempered.

"How were the Runes?" said Ron, yawning and stretching.

"I mistranslated ehwaz," said Hermione furiously. "It means partnership, not Defense; I mixed it up with eihwaz."

"Ah well," said Ron lazily, "that's only one mistake, isn't it, you'll still get -"

"Oh, shut up!" said Hermione angrily. "It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And what's more, someone's put another Niffler in Umbridge's office. I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umbridge is shrieking her head off - by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of her leg -"

"Good," said Harry and Ron together.

It is not good!" said Hermione hotly. "She thinks it's Hagrid doing it, remember? And we do not want Hagrid chucked out!"

"He's teaching at the moment; she can't blame him," said Harry, gesturing out of the window where you could clearly see Hagrid giving a lesson.

"Oh, you're so naive sometimes, really think Umbridge will wait for proof?" said Hermione, who seemed determined to be in a towering temper, and she swept off towards the girls' dormitories, banging the door behind her.

"Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl," said Ron, very quietly, prodding his queen forward to beat up one of Harry's knights.

* * *

Over the weekend Bree made periodic trips into Dumbledore's office underneath Harry's invisibility cloak so that the portraits wouldn't see her rifling through the drawers for incriminating documents. On Sunday Bree found something hiding under her bed.

"Alice? What are you doing here?" Bree asked.

"American school's get out earlier." Alice explained.

"And?" Bree pushed.

"Mom's pregnant." Alice stated.

"Oh." Bree replied. She blinked. "Wait, do you mean Mom-Mom our Aunt Lisa- Mom?"

"Aunt Lisa is my Mom. She's the one who's going to have a baby." Alice hissed.

"And now you're hiding from her?" Bree said incredulously.

"There is nothing in the world more terrifying than and a pregnant woman with a machine gun." Alice stated. Bree sighed.

"Does Ben know you're here?" she questioned.

"Yes. He wants me to start defense lessons tomorrow." Alice stated.

"Okay. Now come out for under there." Bree ordered before she pulled Alice out from under the bed and stood her up. She looked her over. Alice had a tan from days out in the sun, her hair was sun- bleached blond. She was wearing her schools uniform, short sleeved white button up shirt, a blue tie, a blue skirt, blue knee socks and brown penny loafers. Bree, on the other hand, was pale, her hair was a darker shade of blond than Alice's, she stood a couple of inches taller than Alice because of her boots and she was wearing the original Smith Academy uniform, rather than the winter version.

Bree sighed.

"Well, you look too different to pass as me, and to similar to pass as a random nondescript student so you'll need Harry's invisibly cloak." She said, handing over Harry's cloak. "After your lesson with Ben please feel free to cause as much chaos as you want."

* * *

The potions exam was on Monday and students seemed better at brewing since Snape was absent.

Only four exams left," said Parvati Patil wearily as they headed back to Gryffindor common room.

"Only!" said Hermione snappishly. "I've got Arithmancy and it's probably the toughest subject there is!"

Nobody was foolish enough to snap back.

* * *

"So what did you do today?" Bree asked Alice who was staying in Gryffindor's secret room.

"After Ben's lesson I dropped some paint balloons on Umbridge and then gave the rest to Peeves." Alice replied.

"Very good!" Bree praised.

* * *

Tuesday they had their Care of Magical Creatures exam. The Astronomy theory paper on Wednesday morning went well enough. They had to wait until evening for their practical Astronomy; the afternoon was devoted instead to Divination.

Bree told the examiner that she saw fish swimming in the crystal ball. The examiner told her to be serious. Bree muttered something about needing polyjuice and some of Sirius Black's hair.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Bree muttered before staring at crystal ball. She began to recite a poem in a sing song voice.

"Tick-tock goes the clock. And what then shall we see?

Tick-tock until the day. That thou shalt marry me?

Tick-tock goes the clock. And all the years they fly.

Tick-tock and all too soon, you and I must die.

Tick-tock goes the clock. He cradled and he rocked her.

Tick-tock goes the clock. Even for the Doctor."

All of the students and examiners were staring at her when she finished.

"What was that?" Bree's examiner asked.

"What was what?" Bree replied innocently.

The examiners huddled together and muttered things. Eventually Bree was allowed to leave.

* * *

610. Not allowed to claim that I can see fish swimming in my crystal ball during Divination.

* * *

During the astronomy exam six figures, one of which was Umbridge, strided over to Hagrid's hut. There was a great commotion as the figures tried to apprehend Hagrid. The spells appeared to bounce off of him. McGonagall came running out of the castle to defend hagrid and was hit with no less then four stunners. By the end of the exam Hagrid had fled the grounds.

None of the students were going to bed; they were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what they had witnessed.

"That evil woman!" gasped Hermione, who seemed to be having difficulty talking due to rage.

"Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!"

"She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney's," said Ernie Macmillan sagely, squeezing over to join them.

"Hagrid did well, didn't he?" said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. "How come all the spells bounced off him?"

"It'll be his giant blood," said Hermione shakily. "It's very hard to Stun a giant, they're like trolls, really tough… but poor Professor McGonagall… four Stunners straight in the chest and she's not exactly young, is she?"

"Dreadful, dreadful," said Ernie, shaking his head pompously. "Well, I'm off to bed. Night, all."

People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen.

"At least they didn't get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban," said Ron. "I 'spect he's gone to join Dumbledore, hasn't he?"

"I suppose so," said Hermione, who looked tearful. "Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we've lost Hagrid too."

They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower.

"But why sack Hagrid now?" asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. "It's not like Trelawney; he's been teaching much better than usual this year!"

"Umbridge hates part-humans," said Hermione bitterly, flopping down into an armchair. "She was always going to try and get Hagrid out."

"And she thought Hagrid was putting Nifflers in her office," piped up Katie Bell.

"Oh, blimey," said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. "It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through her window."

"She'd have sacked him anyway" said Dean. "He was too close to Dumbledore."

"That's true," said Harry, sinking into an armchair beside Hermione's.

"I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right," said Lavender tearfully.

"They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window," said Colin Creevey "She didn't look very well."

"Madam Pomfrey will sort her out," said Alicia Spinnet firmly. "She's never failed yet."

* * *

Their final exam, History of Magic, was the next afternoon. Bree went back to sleep after breakfast and woke up in time to get to the exam. Alice spent the day learning defense from Ben.

The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their facedown examination papers.

"Turn over your papers," said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. "You may begin."

The test was going well enough, Bree seemed to be doing better than the rest of the fifth years, but that was probably because she was the only one who had slept in to make up for the late night astronomy test instead of doing last minute studying and was therefore the only one who was well rested.

And then Harry fell out of his chair, yelling.

"God damn-it Harry, can't we go through one school year without a June incident!" Bree exclaimed.

* * *

**Bree doesn't care that much about passing, she's probably going to anyway, kind of like the final exam of my Intro to Sociology class. I got 100%. Here's how:**

**Step 1: Show up at most of the classes.**

**Step 2: Take notes.**

**Step 3: Never look at the notes again. **

**Step 4: Forget when final is.**

**Step 5: Don't study.**

**Step 6: Show up late on day of final.**

**Step 7: Take final.**

**Step 8: Get 100% and wonder how you did it. **

**Either the class was really easy or I memorized every lecture I went to.**

**The creepy poem Bree recites during the divination exam is from Doctor Who.**


	64. Year 5: Rescue Mission

Bree sighed as she wrote down the last answer on the exam. Professor Tofty had taken Harry out of the room. When Bree left the Great Hall she found that Harry was long gone. She sighed and set out to find him. She met up with Ginny and Luna and told them what had happened. They found Harry after they heard him yelling in an empty classroom.

They opened the door and walked in.

"Hi," said Ginny uncertainly. "We recognized Harry's voice. What are you yelling about?"

"Never you mind," said Harry roughly.

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"There's no need to take that tone with me," she said coolly, "I was only wondering whether I could help."

"Well, you can't," said Harry shortly.

"You're being rather rude, you know," said Luna serenely.

Harry swore and turned away. The very last thing he wanted now was a conversation with Luna Lovegood.

"Wait," said Hermione suddenly. "Wait… Harry, they can help."

Harry and Ron looked at her.

"Listen," she said urgently, "Harry, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left Headquarters."

"I've told you, I saw -"

"Harry, I'm begging you, please!" said Hermione desperately. "Please let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London. If we find out he's not there, then I swear I won't try to stop you. I'll come, I'll d - do whatever it takes to try and save him."

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted Harry. "We haven't got time to waste."

"But if this is a trick of Voldemort's, Harry, we've got to check, we've got to."

"How?" Harry demanded. "How're we going to check?"

"We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him," said Hermione, who looked positively terrified at the thought. "We'll draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need lookouts, and that's where we can use Ginny, Luna, and Bree."

Though clearly struggling to understand what was going on, Ginny said immediately, "Yeah, we'll do it."

"Okay," Harry said aggressively to Hermione, "Okay, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now."

"The Department of Mysteries?" said Luna, looking mildly surprised. "But how are you going to get there?"

Again, Harry ignored her.

"Right," said Hermione, twisting her hands together and pacing up and down between the desks.

"Right… well… one of us has to go and find Umbridge and - and send her off in the wrong direction, keep her away from her office. They could tell her - I don't know - that Peeves is up to something awful as usual"

"I'll do it," said Ron at once. "I'll tell her Peeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it's miles away from her office. Come to think of it, I could probably persuade Peeves to do it if I met him on the way."

It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Hermione made no objection to the smashing up of the Transfiguration department.

"Okay," she said, her brow furrowed as she continued to pace. "Now, we need to keep students right away from her office while we force entry, or some Slytherins bound to go and tip her off."

"Luna and I can stand at either end of the corridor," said Ginny promptly, "and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garrotting Gas." Hermione looked surprised at the readiness with which Ginny had come up with this lie; Ginny shrugged and said, "Fred and George were planning to do it before they left."

"Okay," said Hermione. "Well then, Harry, you and I will be under the Invisibility Cloak and we'll sneak into the office and you can talk to Sirius -"

"He's not there, Hermione!"

"I mean, you can - can check whether Sirius is at home or not while I keep watch, I don't think you should be in there alone, Lee's already proved the windows a weak spot, sending those Nifflers through it."

"I… okay, thanks," he muttered.

"Right, well, even if we do all of that, I don't think we're going to be able to bank on more than five minutes," said Hermione, looking relieved that Harry seemed to have accepted the plan, "not with Filch and the wretched Inquisitorial Squad floating around."

"Five minutes'll be enough," said Harry. "C'mon, let's go -"

"Now?" said Hermione, looking shocked.

"Of course now!" said Harry angrily. "What did you think, we're going to wait until after dinner or something? Hermione, Sirius is being tortured right now!"

"I - oh, all right," she said desperately. "You go and get the Invisibility Cloak and we'll meet you at the end of Umbridge's corridor, okay?"

"Wait!"Bree exclaimed before Harry had the chance to run off.

"What!" Harry snarled.

"Your Invisibility Cloak isn't upstairs." Bree said.

"Well, where is it?" Harry snapped.

"I'll go get it. Meet you at the corridor." And with that, Bree ran off to find Alice. When she found Alice she gave her a quick summery of the situation and told her to go tell Ben what was going on. She took the cloak and ran to the corridor that led to Umbridge's office.

She joined Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna, who were huddled together at the end of Umbridge's corridor.

"Here" she panted.

"All right," whispered Hermione as a gang of loud sixth-years passed them. "So Ron - you go and head Umbridge off… Ginny, Luna, if you can start moving people out of the corridor… Harry and I will get the Cloak on and wait until the coast is clear…"

Ron strode away, his bright-red hair visible right to the end of the passage.

"Why did you have Harry's cloak?" Ginny asked Bree as they walked to one the end of the corridor while Luna went to the other.

Bree didn't answer. "You can't come down here!" she called to the crowd. "No, sorry, you're going to have to go round by the swiveling staircase, someone's let off Garrotting Gas just along here -"

"I can't see no gas." Someone said.

"That's because it's colorless," said Ginny in a convincingly exasperated voice, "but if you want to walk through it, carry on, then we'll have your body as proof for the next idiot who doesn't believe us."

Slowly, the crowd thinned. The news about the Garrotting Gas seemed to have spread; people were not coming that way anymore.

Hermione whispered, "Good one… don't forget the signal." As she and Harry passed by invisibly.

"What's the signal?" Bree asked.

A loud chorus of 'Weasly is our King' if we see Umbridge coming." replied Ginny.

A little while later Umbridge showed up with her Inquisitorial Squad and a captured Ron. It all went to hell from there.

There was a fight and Neville showed up and tried to help the girls. Bree, Neville, and Luna didn't activate the wards, it would be too obvious. They had to wait until just the right moment.

They were gagged and taken up to Umbridge's office.

"Got 'em all," said Warrington, shoving Ron roughly forwards into the room. "That one," he poked a thick finger at Neville, "tried to stop me taking her," he pointed at Ginny, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, "so I brought him along too."

"Good, good," said Umbridge, watching Ginny's struggles. "Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?

Malfoy laughed loudly and sycophantically. Umbridge gave her wide, complacent smile and settled herself into a chintz-covered armchair, blinking up at her captives like a toad in a flowerbed.

"So, Potter," she said. "You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon," she nodded at Ron — Malfoy laughed even louder - "to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes - Mr. Filch having just informed me so.

"Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone."

Malfoy and a few of the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad laughed some more at that. Harry was so full of rage and hatred he was shaking.

"It's none of your business who I talk to," he snarled.

Umbridge's slack face seemed to tighten.

"Very well," she said in her most dangerous and falsely sweet voice. "Very well, Mr Potter… I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco fetch Professor Snape."

There was silence in the office except for the fidgetings and scufflings resulting from the Slytherins' efforts to keep Ron and the others under control. Ron's lip was bleeding on to Umbridge's carpet as he struggled against Warrington's half-nelson; Ginny was still trying to stamp on the feet of the sixth-year girl who had both her upper arms in a tight grip; Neville was turning steadily more purple in the face while tugging at Crabbe's arms; and Hermione was attempting, in vain, to throw Millicent Bulstrode off her. Luna, however, stood limply by the side of her captor, gazing vaguely out of the window as though rather bored by the proceedings and Bree was deep in thought, trying to decide if she should activate a ward and which one to activate if she did.

Footsteps were heard in the corridor outside and Draco Malfoy entered the room, closely followed by Snape.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" said Snape, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

"Ah, Professor Snape," said Umbridge, smiling widely and standing up again. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he said, surveying her coolly through his greasy curtains of black hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed.

"You can make some more, can't you?" she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon-cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" squawked Umbridge, swelling toadishly. "A month? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" said Snape, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked round at Harry. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

"I wish to interrogate him!" repeated Umbridge angrily, and Snape looked away from Harry back into her furiously quivering face. "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," said Snape smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter - and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did - I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling."

Snape looked back at Harry, who stared at him, frantic to communicate without words.

Voldemort's got Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, he thought 's got Sirius -

"You are on probation!" shrieked Professor Umbridge, and Snape looked back at her, his eyebrows slightly raised. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave. Harry knew his last chance of letting the Order know what was going on was walking out of the door.

"He's got Padfoot!" he shouted. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Snape had stopped with his hand on Umbridges door handle.

"Padfoot?" cried Professor Umbridge, looking eagerly from Harry to Snape. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Snape looked round at Harry. His face was inscrutable. Harry could not tell whether he had understood or not, but he did not dare speak more plainly in front of Umbridge.

"I have no idea," said Snape coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little. If Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

He closed the door behind him with a snap.

He looked at Umbridge, who seemed to be feeling the same way; her chest was heaving with rage and frustration.

"Very well," she said, and she pulled out her wand. "Very well...I am left with no alternative... this is more than a matter of school discipline...this is an issue of Ministry security...yes...yes…"

She seemed to be talking herself into something. She was shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at Harry, beating her wand against her empty palm and breathing heavily.

"You are forcing me, Potter… I do not want to," said Umbridge, still moving restlessly on the spot, "but sometimes circumstances justify the use… I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice."

Malfoy was watching her with a hungry expression on his face.

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," said Umbridge quietly.

Bree panicked and grabbed for a ward that would strike Umbridge dead. Neville looked at her in alarm.

"No!" shrieked Hermione. "Professor Umbridge - it's illegal."

But Umbridge took no notice. There was a nasty, eager, excited look on her face. She raised her wand.

"The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!" cried Hermione.

"What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him," said Umbridge, who was now panting slightly as she pointed her wand at different parts of Harry's body in turn, apparently trying to decide where it would hurt most. "He never knew I ordered Dementors to go after Potter, Smith, and Diggory last summer."

"It was you!" gasped Harry. "You sent the Dementors after me?"

"Somebody had to act," breathed Umbridge, as her wand came to rest pointing directly at Harry's forehead. "They were all bleating about silencing you somehow - discrediting you - but I was the one who actually did something about it… only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter? Not today though, not now -" Bree found the ward she was looking for. Umbridge cried, "Cruc—"

"NO!" shouted Hermione in a cracked voice from behind Millicent Bulstrode. "No - Harry - we'll have to tell her!" Bree didn't activate the ward, instead she stared curiously at Hermione.

"No way!" yelled Harry, staring at the little of Hermione he could see.

"We'll have to, Harry, she'll force it out of you anyway, what's… what's the point?"

And Hermione began to cry weakly into the back of Millicent Bulstrode's robes. Millicent stopped trying to squash her against the wall immediately and dodged out of her way looking disgusted.

"Well, well, well!" said Umbridge, looking triumphant. "Little Miss Question-all is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

"Er - my - nee - no!" shouted Ron through his gag.

Ginny was staring at Hermione as though she had never seen her before. Neville, still choking for breath, was gazing at her, too. But Bree had just noticed something. Though Hermione was sobbing desperately into her hands, there was no trace of a tear.

"I'm - I'm sorry everyone," said Hermione. "But - I can't stand it -"

"That's right, that's right, girl!" said Umbridge, seizing Hermione by the shoulders, thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair and leaning over her. "Now then… with whom was Potter communicating just now?"

"Well," gulped Hermione into her hands, "well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore."

Bree tried to grin, but couldn't through the gag. Ron froze, his eyes wide; Ginny stopped trying to stamp on her Slytherin captor's toes; and even Luna looked mildly surprised. Fortunately, the attention of Umbridge and her minions was focused too exclusively upon Hermione to notice these suspicious signs.

"Dumbledore?" said Umbridge eagerly. "You know where Dumbledore is, then?"

"Well… no" sobbed Hermione. "We've tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hog's Head -"

"Idiot girl - Dumbledore won't be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry's looking for him!" shouted Umbridge, disappointment etched in every sagging line of her face.

"But - but we needed to tell him something important!" wailed Hermione, holding her hands more tightly over her face, not out of anguish, but to disguise the continued absence of tears.

"Yes?" said Umbridge with a sudden resurgence of excitement. "What was it you wanted to tell him?"

"We… we wanted to tell him it's r - ready!" choked Hermione.

"What's ready?" demanded Umbridge, and now she grabbed Hermione's shoulders again and shook her slightly. "What's ready, girl?"

"The… the weapon," said Hermione.

"Weapon? Weapon?" said Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. "You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course?"

"Y — y - yes," gasped Hermione, "but he had to leave before it was finished and n - n - now we've finished it for him, and we c - c - can't find him t - t - to tell him!"

"What kind of weapon is it?" said Umbridge harshly, her stubby hands still tight on Hermione's shoulders.

"We don't r - r - really understand it," said Hermione, sniffing loudly. "We j - j - just did what P - P - Professor Dumbledore told us t - t - to do."

Umbridge straightened up, looking exultant.

"Lead me to the weapon," she said.

"I'm not showing… them," said Hermione shrilly, looking around at the Slytherins through her fingers.

"It is not for you to set conditions," said Professor Umbridge harshly.

"Fine," said Hermione, now sobbing into her hands again. "Fine… let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th - that would serve you right - oh, I'd love it if the wh - whole school knew where it was, and how to u - use it, and then if you annoy any of them they'll be able to s - sort you out!"

These words had a powerful impact on Umbridge: she glanced swiftly and suspiciously around at her Inquisitorial Squad, her bulging eyes resting for a moment on Malfoy, who was too slow to disguise the look of eagerness and greed that had appeared on his face.

Umbridge contemplated Hermione for another long moment, then spoke in what she clearly thought was a motherly voice.

"All right, dear, let's make it just you and me… and we'll take Potter, too, shall we? Get up, now."

"Professor," said Malfoy eagerly, "Professor Umbridge, I think some of the Squad should come with you to look after -"

"I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?" asked Umbridge sharply. "In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these -" she gestured around at Bree, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna "- escape."

"All right," said Malfoy, looking sulky and disappointed.

"And you two can go ahead of me and show me the way" said Umbridge, pointing at Harry and Hermione with her wand. "Lead on."

* * *

Bree activated the restraint ward she had once used on Umbridge once she was sure the toad was far enough away. With the Slytherins unable to move, everyone was able to free themselves and remove there gags. Bree went around collecting wands from the Slytherins. When she was done she turned to Draco.

"Well I've practiced this spell before, but I've never actually used it on a person. Here's hoping I don't scramble your brain!" She said cheerfully as she lifted her wand.

"One, two, three, Obliviate!" Bree repeated the process on the rest of the Slytherins and then stunned them.

"I made them think that they got there asses kicked by us." Bree told her follow ex-captives.

"How did you do that?" Ron asked.

"Oh, right." Bree said, frowning.

"Maybe we should tell them." Neville suggested.

"Maybe. Just one question." Bree said as she looked at Ron and Ginny. "Do you think Dumbledore is trustworthy?"

"Of course." Ginny and Ron answered. Bree sighed.

"Yeah, sorry about this, well, not really. Obliviate!" she said.

"Did you really have to do that?" Neville asked.

"Can't have them telling the old coot. Anyway, I fed them the same story I gave the Slytherins." Bree replied before going over to the window.

"Looks like Hermione is leading the old toad into the forest." She stated as Ginny and Ron came out of their daze.

"Well, let's go help them." Ron said.

* * *

They walked into the forest and wandered for a bit.

"How are we supposed to find them?" Ron grumbled.

There was a large commotion somewhere in the distance.

"That's how!" Bree shouted before taking off towards the noise.

"Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?" they heard Hermione ask.

"Yeah, we were just wondering that," said Ron.

Harry and Hermione were covered in blood. It wasn't theirs.

"So," said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry's wand, "had any ideas?"

"How did you get away?" asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.

"Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx," said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione's wand, too. "But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy - Bat Bogey Hex - it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things." Ron explained.

Neville stared at Bree. She shrugged.

"Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What've you done with Umbridge?" Ron continued.

"She got carried away," said Harry. "By a herd of centaurs."

Bree grimaced and tried very hard not to think about Greek Mythology.

And they left you behind?" asked Ginny, looking astonished.

"No, they got chased off by Grawp," said Harry

"Who's Grawp?" Luna asked interestedly.

"Hagrid's little brother," said Ron promptly. "Anyway, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or -?"

"Yes," said Harry, as his scar gave another painful prickle, "and I'm sure Sirius is still alive, but I can't see how we're going to get there to help him."

They all fell silent, looking rather scared; the problem facing them seemed insurmountable.

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" said Luna, in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice Harry had ever heard her use.

"Okay," said Harry irritably, rounding on her. "First of all, 'we' aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that, and second of all, Ron's the only one with a broomstick that isn't being guarded by a security troll, so -"

"I've got a broom!" said Ginny.

"Yeah, but you're not coming," said Ron angrily.

"Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!" said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

"You're too -" Harry began, but Ginny said fiercely, "I'm three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Philosopher's Stone, and it's because of me that Malfoy's stuck back in Umbridge's office with giant flying bogies attacking him -"

"Yeah, but -"

"We were all in the D.A, together," said Neville quietly. "It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn't it? And this is the first chance we've had to do something real - or was that all just a game or something?"

"No — of course it wasn't -" said Harry impatiently.

"Then we should come too," said Neville simply. "We want to help."

"That's right," said Luna, smiling happily.

Harry's eyes met Ron's. He knew Ron was thinking exactly what he was: if he could have chosen any members of the D.A., in addition to himself, Ron and Hermione, to join him in the attempt to rescue Sirius, he would not have picked Ginny, Neville or Luna.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway," said Harry through gritted teeth, "because we still don't know how to get there -"

"I thought we'd settled that," said Luna maddeningly. "We're flying!"

"Look," said Ron, barely containing his anger, "you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout wings whenever we -"

"She's talking about Theatrals. For those of you who can't see them, there are two of them over there." Bree said, pointing to an area between to trees.

"Well, we need three," said Hermione, who was still looking a little shaken, but determined just the same.

"Four, Hermione," said Ginny, scowling.

"I think there are seven of us, actually," said Luna calmly, counting.

"Don't be stupid, we can't all go!" said Harry angrily. "Look, you four -" he pointed at Bree, Neville, Ginny and Luna, "you're not involved in this, you're not -"

They burst into more protests.

"Okay, fine, it's your choice," he said curtly, "but unless we can find more Thestrals you're not going to be able -"

"Oh, more of them will come," said Ginny confidently, who like Ron was squinting in quite the wrong direction, apparently under the impression that she was looking at the horses.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because, in case you hadn't noticed, you and Hermione are both covered in blood," she said coolly, "and we know Hagrid lures Thestrals with raw meat. That's probably why these two turned up in the first place."

"Okay, then," he said, a bright idea occurring, "Ron and I will take these two and go ahead, and Hermione can stay here with you three and she'll attract more Thestrals -"

"I'm not staying behind!" said Hermione furiously.

"There's no need," said Luna, smiling. "Look, here come more now… you two must really smell…"

No fewer than six or seven Thestrals were picking their way through the trees, their great leathery wings folded tight to their bodies, their eyes gleaming through the darkness. He had no excuse now.

"All right," he said angrily, "pick one and get on, then."

Bree grabbed the mane of the nearest Thestral, placed a foot on a nearby stump, and cleanly swung her leg over the animals back. She found there was a way of lodging her knees behind the wing joints that made her feel more secure.

Then she looked around at the others. Neville had heaved himself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one short leg over the creature's back. Luna was already in place, sitting side-saddle and adjusting her robes as though she did this every day.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione however, were still standing motionless on the spot, open-mouthed and staring.

"What?" she said.

"How're we supposed to get on?" said Ron faintly. "When we can't see the things?"

"Oh, it's easy," said Luna, sliding obligingly from her Thestral and marching over to him, Hermione and Ginny. "Come here…"

She pulled them over to the other Thestrals standing around and one by one managed to help them on to the back of their mount. All three looked extremely nervous as she wound their hands into their horses mane and told them to grip tightly before she got back on to her own steed.

"This is mad," Ron murmured, moving his free hand gingerly up and down his horse's neck. "Mad… if I could just see it -"

"Weel, we could go back up to the castle and kill Malfoy." Bree suggested.

"Murder is never the answer." Hermione admonished.

"No, murder is the question. Yes is the answer." Bree replied brightly. Hermione just sighed.

"We all ready, then?" Harry interjected.

They all nodded.

"Okay…"

He looked down at the Thestral he couldn't see.

"Ministry of Magic, visitors' entrance, London, then," he said uncertainly. "Er… if you know… where to go…"

For a moment Harry's Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unseated him, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that Harry had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. The other Thestrals followed.

Bree closed her eyes and clung to the Thestral.

"Never doing this again." She muttered.

"This is bizarre!" Ron yelled.

Twilight fell: the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were traveling, not that Bree could see anything.

Then they were descending at last.

As soon as the Thestral had landed, Bree slid off its back and onto the ground.

Ron landed a short way off and toppled immediately from his Thestral on to the pavement.

"Never again," he said, struggling to his feet. He made as though to stride away from his Thestral, but, unable to see it, collided with its hindquarters and almost fell over again. "Never, ever again… that was the worst -"

Hermione and Ginny touched down: both slid off their mounts a little more gracefully than Ron, though with similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground; Neville jumped down, shaking; and Luna dismounted smoothly.

"Where do we go from here, then?" she asked Harry in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather interesting day-trip.

"Over here," he said. He gave his Thestral a quick, grateful pat, then led the way quickly to the battered telephone box and opened the door. "Come on!" he urged the others, as they hesitated.

Ron and Ginny marched in obediently; Hermione, Bree, Neville and Luna squashed themselves in after them. Harry came in after Luna.

"Whose hand is that?" Bree asked.

"Sorry." Said Ron as he tried to shift away from her.

"I'm telling George." Bree replied.

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" Harry said.

Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial; as it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger," Harry said very quickly, "Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Bree Smith… we're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Harry over Ginny's head.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" Harry said loudly, as his scar gave another throb. "Now can we move?"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past its glass windows; the scavenging Thestrals were sliding out of sight; blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A chink of soft golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. Harry bent his knees and held his wand as ready as he could in such cramped conditions as he peered through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for them in the Atrium, but it seemed to be completely empty.

The light was dimmer than it had been by day; there were no fires burning under the mantelpieces set into the walls, but as the lift slid smoothly to a halt he saw that golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box burst open; Harry toppled out of it, closely followed by Neville and Luna. The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

"Come on," said Harry quietly and the seven of them sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain towards the security desk, which was empty.

They passed through the golden gates to the lifts. Harry pressed the nearest 'down' button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clanking and they dashed inside. Harry stabbed the number nine button; the grilles closed with a bang and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. The cool female voice said, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open. They stepped out into the corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift.

"Let's go," he whispered, and he led the way down t he corridor, Luna right behind him, gazing around with her mouth slightly open.

"Okay, listen," said Harry stopping again within six feet of the door. "Maybe… maybe a couple of people should stay here as a — as a lookout, and —"

"And how're we going to let you know something's coming?" asked Ginny, her eyebrows raised.

"You could be miles away."

"We're coming with you, Harry," said Neville.

Harry still did not want to take them all with him, but it seemed he had no choice. He turned to face the door and walked forwards, it swung open and he marched over the threshold, the others at his heels.

They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handle less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

"Someone shut the door," Harry muttered.

Without the long chink of light from the torch lit corridor behind them, the place became so dark that for a moment the only things they could see were the bunches of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the floor.

There was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as though frightened the floor might move, too, but it did not.

For a few seconds, the blue flames around them were blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around; then, quite as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

"What was that about?" whispered Ron fearfully.

"I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through," said Ginny in a hushed voice.

"How're we going to get back out?" said Neville uncomfortably.

"Well, that doesn't matter now," said Harry forcefully, clutching his wand tighter than ever, "we won't need to get out till we've found Sirius -"

"Don't go calling for him, though!" Hermione said urgently.

"Where do we go, then, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I don't -" Harry began. He swallowed. "In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room - that's this one - and then I went through another door into a room that kind of… glitters. We should try a few doors," he said hastily, "I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon."

He marched straight at the door now facing him, the others following close behind him, set his left hand against its cool, shining surface, raised his wand ready to strike the moment it opened, and pushed.

It swung open easily.

After the darkness of the first room, the lamps hanging low on golden chains from this ceiling gave the impression that this long rectangular room was much brighter, though there were no glittering, shimmering lights as Harry had seen in his dreams. The place was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid, big enough for all of them to swim in; a number of pearly-white objects were drifting around lazily in it.

What're those things?" whispered Ron.

"Dunno," said Harry.

"Are they fish?" breathed Ginny.

"Aquavirius Maggots!" said Luna excitedly. "Dad said the Ministry were breeding —"

"No," said Hermione. She sounded odd. She moved forward to look through the side of the tank.

"They're brains."

"Brains?"

"Yes… I wonder what they're doing with them?"

"Thoughts are very powerful and being able to influence someone's mind is better than having to fight them." Bree stated.

"Let's get out of here," said Harry. "This isn't right, we need to try another door."

"There are doors here, too," said Ron, pointing around the walls

"In my dream I went through that dark room into the second one," Harry said. "I think we should go back and try from there."

So they hurried back into the dark, circular room.

"Wait!" said Hermione sharply, as Luna made to close the door of the brain room behind them.

"Flagrate!"

She drew with her wand in midair and a fiery 'X' appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve very fast, but now there was a great red-gold blur in amongst the faint blue and, when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door they had already tried.

"Good thinking," said Harry. "Okay, let's try this one -"

Again, he strode directly at the door facing him and pushed it open, his wand still raised, the others at his heels.

This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the center of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheater. There was a raised stone dais in the center of the pit, on which stood a stone archway that looked ancient, cracked and crumbling. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

"Who's there?" said Harry, jumping down on to the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway.

"Careful!" whispered Hermione.

Harry scrambled down the benches one by one until he reached the stone bottom of the sunken pit. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly towards the dais. Bree followed him. The pointed archway looked much taller from where they now stood than it had when they'd been looking down on it from above. Still the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it.

"Sirius?" Harry spoke again, but more quietly now that he was nearer.

Gripping his wand very tightly, he edged around the dais, but there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil. Bree heard whispers coming from the veil. She was greatly reminded of the crack in the universe and guessed that the veil was probably just as dangerous.

"Let's go," called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. "This isn't right, Harry, come on, let's go."

She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam.

"Harry, let's go, okay?" said Hermione more forcefully.

"Okay," he said, but did not move.

"What are you saying?" he said, very loudly, so that his words echoed all around the stone benches.

"Nobody's talking, Harry!" said Hermione, now moving over to him.

"Someone's whispering behind there," he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. "Is that you, Ron?"

"I'm here, mate," said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway.

"Harry, let's go, okay?" said Hermione more forcefully.

"Okay," he said, but did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil.

"What are you saying?" he said, very loudly, so that his words echoed all around the stone benches.

"Nobody's talking, Harry!" said Hermione, now moving over to him.

"Someone's whispering behind there," he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. "Is that you, Ron?"

"I'm here, mate," said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway.

"Can't anyone else hear it?" Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais.

"I can hear them too," breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. "There are people in there!"

"What do you mean, 'in there'?" demanded Hermione, jumping down from the bottom step and sounding much angrier than the occasion warranted, "there isn't any 'in there', it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there. Harry, stop it, come away -"

She grabbed his arm and pulled, but he resisted.

"Harry this thing is dangerous. We need to go find Sirius." Bree said forcefully.

"Sirius," Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerized, at the continuously swaying veil. "Yeah…"

He took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil.

"Let's go," he said.

"That's what I've been trying to - well, come on, then!" said Hermione, and she led the way back around the dais. On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Hermione took hold of Ginny's arm, Ron grabbed Neville's, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door.

"What d'you reckon that arch was?" Harry asked Hermione as they regained the dark circular room.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, Bree's right, it was dangerous," she said firmly, again inscribing a fiery cross on the door.

Once more, the wall spun and became still again. Harry approached another door at random and pushed. It did not move.

"What's wrong?" said Hermione.

"It's… locked…" said Harry, throwing his weight at the door, but it didn't budge.

"This is it, then, isn't it?" said Ron excitedly, joining Harry in the attempt to force the door open.

"Bound to be!"

"Get out of the way!" said Hermione sharply. She pointed her wand at the place where a lock would have been on an ordinary door and said, "Alohomora!"

Nothing happened.

"Sirius's knife!" said Harry. He pulled it out from inside his robes and slid it into the crack between the door and the wall. The others all watched eagerly as he ran it from top to bottom, withdrew it and then flung his shoulder again at the door. It remained as firmly shut as ever.

What was more, when Harry looked down at the knife, he saw the blade had melted.

"Right, we're leaving that room," said Hermione decisively.

"But what if that's the one?" said Ron, staring at it with a mixture of apprehension and longing.

"It can't be, Harry could get through all the doors in his dream," said Hermione, marking the door with another fiery cross as Harry replaced the now-useless handle of Sirius's knife in his pocket.

"You know what could be in there?" said Luna eagerly, as the wall started to spin yet again.

"Something blibbering, no doubt," said Hermione under her breath and Neville gave a nervous little laugh.

The wall slid to a halt and Harry, with a feeling of increasing desperation, pushed the next door open.

"This is it!"

There was a beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. There were clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of minuscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room. Bree looked around, she half expected to see a TARDIS since the room was dedicated to the study of time, instead she found a cabinet full of time turners. She grabbed a couple of them and hid them in the bigger-on-the-inside compartments in her boots.

"This way!"

Harry led the way down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

"Oh, look!" said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draught its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

"Keep going!" said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg's progress back into a bird.

"You dawdled enough by that old arch!" she said crossly, but followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.

"This is it," Harry said again, "it's through here -"

They all pulled their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. He looked back at the door and pushed. It swung open.

They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Harry edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves.

He could not hear anything or see the slightest sign of movement.

"You said it was row ninety-seven," whispered Hermione.

"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure fifty-three.

"We need to go right, I think," whispered Hermione, squinting to the next row. "Yes… that's fifty-four…"

"Keep your wands ready," Harry said softly.

They crept forward, glancing behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs. Bree trailed behind everyone else as the passed row after row, so no one noticed when she ducked into row ninety-six after something caught her eye.

The orbs had tags on them, faded yellow with age and labeled with the name of the person they were apparently meant for. Bree walked down the row of orbs, frantically examining each one. They were all meant for the same person. The Doctor. At the row she stopped. She could hear her friends on the other side of the shelf.

"Harry, have you seen this, it's got your name on."

Bree was more focused on the orb in front of her. It was the most recently added orb, it's tag was still crisp and white and it was dated just a few days before.

The tag read:

B.L.S. to M.R.J.

The Doctor

Bree couldn't fathom why her initials were on the tag. She grabbed it. Pain erupted inside of her head.

* * *

Omake

Ron was sitting at the kitchen table when George came in and punched him in the face.

"What the bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, clutching his soon to be black eye.

"Keep your hands off my girlfriend." George replied.

"It was an accident!"

"Hands off."

Later that summer, Ron was out shopping in Diagon alley.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley." Said a voice from behind him. Ron turned and found himself staring at Bree's Uncle Vince and his two bodyguards. "We need to have a chat."

Oh look over there children, there's a sale at the Owl Emporium. Half-off owl treats. What's that? No, just ignore the screaming. Just ignore it and it will be all over soon.


	65. Year 5: It's A Trap!

**Warning: Bree stabs a couple of guys, so there's a little bit of blood.**

**Warning 2: Many Death Eaters were harmed in the making of this chapter.**

* * *

Bree held her head with one hand and the glass orb in the other. Something had slammed straight into the barrier around her mind. It stopped its assault as soon it the barrier. This person wasn't the one the orb was meant for. She wasn't the Doctor, but had a bit of the Doctor in her head. This left Bree as befuddled and confused as thing medical whatever-it-was. She heard voices, but they sounded far away.

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo."

Bree was leaning heavily against one of the shelves. She stumbled forward to the end of the rows. Her friends were surrounded by a group of Death Eaters. Someone grabbed her and shoved her into the circle. Neville caught her as she tripped.

"What did you do to her?" Harry demanded, he sounded so very far away.

"Nothing. The foolish girl grabbed a prophecy that wasn't meant for her. The only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Potter, are those about whom it was made, as the Dark Lord discovered when he attempted to use others to steal it for him." " A familiar voice answered. Bree looked up. Lucy. Lucy-us. Lucius. Bree closed her eyes, her head hurt so much. Neville shook her shoulders.

"Bree, look at me!" he sounded panicked. The orb slipped from Bree's fingers and smashed on the floor. Everyone, even the Death Eaters, stared in surprise as a small figure, pale as one of the Hogwarts ghosts and as fluid as smoke, unfurled itself from the remains of the orb. It looked just like Bree and it recited the same poem that Bree had said during her Divination exam.

"Tick-tock goes the clock. And what then shall we see?

Tick-tock until the day. That thou shalt marry me?

Tick-tock goes the clock. And all the years they fly.

Tick-tock and all too soon, you and I must die.

Tick-tock goes the clock. He cradled and he rocked her.

Tick-tock goes the clock. Even for the Doctor."

Bree let out a giggle. That wasn't the whole poem. She decided to finish it. in a somewhat childish and demented singsong sort of way.

"Tick-tock goes the clock. And what now shall we play?

Tick-tock goes the clock. Now summer's gone away.

Tick-tock goes the clock. And all the years they fly.

Tick-tock and all too soon. Your love will surely die.

TIck-tock goes the clock. He cradled and he rocked her.

Tick-tock goes the clock. Till River kills the Doctor.

Tick-tock goes the clock. Tick-tock goes the clock. Tick-tock goes the clock.

Doctor brave and good. He turned away from violence.

When he understood. The Falling of the Silence."

Tick tock goes the clock, He gave all he could give her.

Tick tock goes the clock, Now prison waits for River."

Bree laughed into Neville's robes.

"You know there's an entire row dedicated to him." She said as she stared straight at Lucius. "The Doctor, I mean." She let out a giggle.

"The most recent orb had my initials on it and I just had to find out why, and now my brains all scrambled." She giigled again and swayed dangerously on her feet. Neville and Luna each grabbed an arm to steady her.

"It's so stupid!" Bree exclaimed. "I'm not the one who came up with the poem I just heard the echo and echoed it back!" The Death Eaters were watching her in a curious sort of way. Bree wasn't the reason they had come to the Ministry, but if she was a seer she might prove valuable.

"Then who came up with the poem?" Lucius asked.

Bree tilted her head to the side. "Don't know. It just echoes. Through time and space, so that one it will reach him. The Doctor. It's not the only echo, there are so many, and I'm not the only one who hears them! There's a whole row full of echoes, just for him. I can guess what they are. Everything from the Bad Wolf and the Darkness to the Pandorica and the Fall of the Eleventh." Bree giggled again.

"It's all there, sitting on those, shelves, waiting for a man that will never come to collect them. He doesn't need them. He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's the man that can make whole armies turn and run at the mention of his name. He's a legend. When disaster comes, he's there. He brings a storm in his wake." She grinned.

"And you know what? He's not here right now. He's not here… because you're not important. You and that megalomaniac you follow, you're not a big enough to get his attention. You're not enough of a _threat_ for him to come and stop you when you and the problems you cause can easily be taken care of by someone else." Bree said.

"Enough of this!" snarled the only woman among the Death Eaters. She raised her wand.

"DO NOT ATTACK!" Lucius shouted. "If you smash it…"

"I know Sirius is here," said Harry. "I know you've got him!"

More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman laughed loudest of all.

"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," said Malfoy. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the five wands of Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna rose on either side of him. Bree, no longer needing Luna and Neville's support, could only grin. The magic that protected the orbs was powerful. It hadn't broken Bree's mind as was intended, but had shaken it up enough that Bree couldn't think normally, well normal for her anyway. As a result, the Not-Bree had more influence over Bree's actions than she should have.

The Death Eaters did not strike.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malfoy coolly.

It was Harry's turn to laugh.

"Yeah, right!" he said. "I give you this - prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked: "Accio proph—"

Harry was just ready for her: he shouted "Protego!" before she had finished her spell, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of his fingers he managed to cling on to it.

"Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter," she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. "Very well, then -"

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Lucius Malfoy roared at the woman.

The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow.

"You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well - take the smallest one," she ordered the Death Eaters beside her. "Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

The others close in around Ginny; Harry stepped sideways so that he was right in front of her, the prophecy held up to his chest.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," he told Bellatrix. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

She did not move; she merely stared at him, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

"So," said Harry, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?"

"What kind of prophecy?" repeated Bellatrix, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," said Harry, his eyes flicking from Death Eater to Death Eater, looking for a weak link, a space through which they could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

"You dare speak his name?" whispered Bellatrix.

"Yeah," said Harry, maintaining his tight grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from him. "Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Vol—"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare -"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" said Harry recklessly.

"Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle - or has he been telling you lot he's pure-blood?"

"STUPEF—"

"NO!"

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, but Malfoy had deflected it; his spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered.

Two figures unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

"… at the solstice will come a new…" said the figure of an old, bearded man.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dared - he dares -" shrieked Bellatrix incoherently, "he stands there - filthy half-blood -"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" bawled Malfoy.

"… and none will come after…" said the figure of a young woman.

The two figures that had burst from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them or their erstwhile homes but fragments of glass upon the floor. They had, however, given Harry an idea. The problem was going to be conveying it to the others.

"You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," he said, playing for time. He moved his foot slowly sideways, feeling around for someone else's.

"Do not play games with us, Potter," said Malfoy.

"I'm not playing games," said Harry, half his mind on the conversation, half on his wandering foot. And then he found someone's toes and pressed down upon them. A sharp intake of breath behind him told him they were Hermione's.

"What?" she whispered.

"Dumbledore never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" Malfoy sneered.

"I - what?" said Harry. And for a moment he quite forgot his plan. "What about my scar?"

"What?" whispered Hermione more urgently behind him.

"Can this be?" said Malfoy, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again, and under cover of their laughter, Harry hissed to Hermione, moving his lips as little as possible, "Smash shelves -"

"Dumbledore never told you?" Malfoy repeated.

"Of course he didn't." Bree replied.

"- when I say now-"

"Knowledge is power. Dumbledore keeps the knowledge to himself so that he can keep all of the power, and when someone has knowledge that he doesn't have he rips it from their mind." Bree paused for a moment.

"Well, he tries to anyway. Which is a crime, but I didn't report it, 'cause, you know, it would have given the Ministry a legitimate reason to take over the school, and you know, Dumbledore was he lesser of two evils." She said.

"You're lying." Ginny spoke up. "There's no way that Dumbledore would do something like that." Bree gave her a bored stare.

"If you want to believe that, I won't stop you. You can just make up your own reason why Dumbledore can't contact me without a lawyer present." Bree turned back to the Death Eaters.

"We seem to have gotten a bit off topic, haven't we?" she said. "You were saying Lucy?"

Lucius blinked. Bree's behavior was more off-putting than usual because of her addled mind. "Er…"

"Something about a prophecy about Harry, that Harry didn't know about. Hey, why's your boss interested in a prophecy about Harry anyway?" Bree asked.

"About both of them, Smith, about both of them… haven't you ever wondered why the Dark Lord tried to kill him as a baby?"

Harry stared into the slitted eye-holes through which Malfoy's grey eyes were gleaming. Was this prophecy the reason Harry's parents had died, the reason he carried his lightning-bolt scar? Was the answer to all of this clutched in his hand?

"Someone made a prophecy about Voldemort and me?" he said quietly, gazing at Lucius Malfoy, his fingers tightening over the glass sphere in his hand. It was hardly larger than a Snitch and still gritty with dust. "And he's made me come and get it for him? Why couldn't he come and get it himself?"

"Get it himself?" shrieked Bellatrix, over a cackle of mad laughter. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors."

"So, he's got you doing his dirty work for him, has he?" said Harry. "Like he tried to get Sturgis to steal it - and Bode?"

"Very good, Potter, very good…" said Malfoy slowly.

"So this whole thing was a trap?" Bree was loving the situation, the words weren't hers but they slipped off her tongue so easily. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? There's one thing you never put in a trap, if you're smart. If you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeing tomorrow, there's one thing you never, ever put in a trap... Me. REDUCTO!" Her spell hit a shelf in row nineddsy ty-six and it swayed as the orbs burst.

"NOW!" Harry yelled.

Five different voices behind him bellowed, "REDUCTO!" Five curses flew in five different directions and the shelves opposite them exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor.

"TIME TO GO!" Bree exclaimed as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to fall from above. Bree laughed madly as she ran, her arms over her head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down.

Bree found her path blocked by Death Eaters and ducked through the first door she found instead trying to get to the room with all of the clocks and the bell jar.

"Colloportus!" she exclaimed. The door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise. She turned around and froze in shock. Even in her altered state of mind she could still recognize a threat when she saw one, and right now she saw two. The room was brightly lit, though there was no discernible source. In the middle of the room there were two of the most dangerous beings in the universe. Weeping Angels.

Bree stared for a moment, then burst out laughing, causing her to look away from the Angels. They didn't move, they were trapped, staring at each other. Unless someone moved one of them or the light went out they would be stuck like that forever, or until they starved to death.

Bree approached the Angels. "I guess not all wizards are oblivious." She said as she examined them. "You two must have been here a long time. You're starting to crumble. You must be starving." She giggled. "I bet you would love to be able to send me to the past and eat up all of my remaining days."

She moved away from the Angels and examined the shelves that lined the walls. Cyberman helmet, drawing of a Dalek, Auton hand, drawing of the Doctor's TARDIS, jar of Vashta Nerada… wait, what was that? Yep, that was definitely a jar of Vashta Nerada, with a sign that read: DO NOT OPEN! YOU WILL DIE! If someone you with opens this jar, run. No, seriously run if you don't want to get eaten. Preferably while screaming "The Vashta Nerada are loose, run for your lives!" so that no one else gets eaten and we can send someone to recapture them. Thank you.

Bree picked up the jar. It looked like it contained a shadow. Then Two Death Eaters walked in from another door.

"Hi, there! I'm holding a jar full of dangerous things if that sign in to be believed." She said before the two men could attack. "What do you think will happen if it breaks?" The Death Eaters looked at the sign, then at the jar, then at Bree.

"Of course I know what will happen if the jar breaks, a ravenous swarm will be released and it will devour the closest living being. The sign recommends that the survivors run away screaming." The Death Eaters shifted nervously.

Bree grinned. "So, who wants to attack me?" Neither Death Eater moved. "Oh come on. I the jar breaks you won't feel a thing. They'll render you to a pile of bones in a nano-second. Probably less then that I they've been here as long as the Weeping Angels over there. Bet they're starving. Almost feel sorry for them, I should feed them." She looked at the Death Eaters. "You two have a lot meat on your bones. Who's hungry!" she through the jar at them.

The Death Eaters dove to catch it. They missed and the jar hit floor, but it didn't break. Bree giggled and stunned the two of them before they could get up. "A jar containing something that dangerous, did you really think they wouldn't make it unbreakable?" she asked the two unconscious men. She walked over to them and snapped their wands. She pulled a sliver dagger out of her boot.

"Silver dagger. Good for all sorts of supernatural baddies, and for severing the Achilles tendon." Bree explained before stabbing each of them through one of their ankles. "Now even if your friends find you and wake you up you won't be able to escape. Good luck with your limps." And with that Bree left through a different door than the one she came in through.

She was back in the circular room they had started in. The others were all there and everyone except Luna was injured. Hermione was unconscious.

"Where's Bree?" Harry asked.

"Here I am." Bree replied.

"Harry," said Ron, giggling weakly, lurching forwards, seizing the front of Harry's robes and gazing at him with unfocused eyes, "there you are… ha ha ha… you look funny, Harry… you're all messed up…"

Ron's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Next moment his knees had given way, but he still clutched the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry was pulled into a kind of bow.

"Ginny?" Harry said fearfully. "What happened?"

But Ginny shook her head and slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," whispered Luna, who was bending over her and who alone seemed to be unhurt. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets; it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark -"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" said Ron, still giggling feebly. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus - ha ha ha -"

A bubble of blood grew at the corner of Ron's mouth and burst.

"- anyway, one of them grabbed Ginny's foot, I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Pluto in his face, but…"

Luna gestured hopelessly at Ginny, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed.

"And what about Ron?" said Harry fearfully, as Ron continued to giggle, still hanging off the front of Harry's robes.

"I don't know what they hit him with," said Luna sadly, "but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all."

"Harry," said Ron, pulling Harry's ear down to his mouth and still giggling weakly, "you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony… Loony Lovegood… ha ha ha "

"We've got to get out of here," said Harry firmly. "Luna, can you help Ginny?

"Yes," said Luna, sticking her wand behind her ear for safekeeping, then putting an arm around Ginny's waist and pulling her up.

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!" said Ginny impatiently, but next moment she had collapsed sideways and grabbed Luna for support.

"Apparently, you can't." Bree commented. Ginny glared at her for a moment, then her eyes widened in shock.

"Is that bloody knife?" she asked.

Bree looked down at her hand. "Why no, it's a bloody dagger!" she exclaimed. "Why do I have that? Oh, I stabbed a couple of guys with it, that's why." She nodded to herself.

Harry pulled Ron's arm over his shoulder just as. He looked around: they had a one in twelve chance of getting the exit right first time -

He heaved Ron towards a door; they were within a few feet of it when another door across the hall burst open and three Death Eaters sped in, led by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"There they are!" she shrieked.

Stunning Spells shot across the room: Harry smashed his way through the door ahead, flung Ron unceremoniously from him and ducked back to help Neville in with Hermione: they were all over the threshold just in time to slam the door against Bellatrix.

"Colloportus!" shouted Harry, and three bodies slam into the door on the other side.

"It doesn't matter!" said a man's voice. "There are other ways in - WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!"

Harry span around; they were back in the Brain Room and, sure enough, there were doors all around the walls. He could hear footsteps in the hall behind them as more Death Eaters came running to join the first.

"Luna - Neville – Bree- help me!"

The four of them tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went; Harry crashed into a table and rolled over the top of it in his haste to reach the next door:

"Colloportus!"

There were footsteps running along behind the doors, every now and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered; Luna and Neville were bewitching the doors along the opposite wall - then Luna cried: "Collo—aaaaaaaaargh…"

He turned in time to see her flying through the air; five Death Eaters were surging into the room through the door she had not reached in time; Luna hit a desk, slid over its surface and on to the floor on the other side where she lay sprawled and still.

"Get Potter!" shrieked Bellatrix, and she ran at him; he dodged her and sprinted back up the room; he was safe as long as they thought they might hit the prophecy -

"Hey!" said Ron, who had staggered to his feet and was now tottering drunkenly towards Harry, giggling. "Hey Harry, there are brains in here, ha h a ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

"Ron, get out of the way, get down -"

But Ron had already pointed his wand at the tank.

"Honest, Harry, they're brains - look -Accio brain!"

The scene seemed momentarily frozen. Harry, Bree, Ginny and Neville and each of the Death Eaters turned in spite of themselves to watch the top of the tank as a brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish: for a moment it seemed suspended in midair, then it soared towards Ron, spinning as it came, and what looked like ribbons of moving images flew from it, unraveling like rolls of film-

"Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it -" said Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards, "Harry come and touch it; bet it's weird -"

"RON, NO!"

Harry did not know what would happen if Ron touched the tentacles of thought now flying behind the brain, but he was sure it would not be anything good. He darted forwards but Ron had already caught the brain in his outstretched hands.

The moment they made contact with his skin, the tentacles began wrapping themselves around Ron's arms like ropes.

"Harry, look what's happen— No - no - I don't like it - no, stop - stop -"

But the thin ribbons were spinning around Ron's chest now; he tugged and tore at them as the brain was pulled tight against him like an octopus's body.

"Diffindo!" yelled Harry, trying to sever the feelers wrapping themselves tightly around Ron before his eyes, but they would not break. Ron fell over, still thrashing against his bonds.

"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" screamed Ginny, immobilized by her broken ankle on the floor – then a jet of red light flew from one of the Death Eater's wands and hit her squarely in the face. She keeled over sideways and lay there unconscious.

"STUBEFY!" shouted Neville, wheeling around and waving Hermione's wand at the oncoming Death Eaters, "STUBEFY, STUBEFY!"

But nothing happened.

One of the Death Eaters shot their own Stunning Spell at Neville; it missed him by inches. Harry, Bree, and Neville were now the only ones left fighting the five Death Eaters, two of whom sent off streams of silver light like arrows which missed but left craters in the wall behind them.

A gunshot rang though the air. One of the Death Eaters cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Everyone, who was not unconscious, being attacked by a brain or suffering from a gunshot wound, turned to the source of the noise, there was Aunt Lisa in one of the unsealed doorways, holding a gun. Her back-up rushed in. A brunette witch rushed to assist Ron, and a blond haired witch, a wizard with graying hair, and a brown haired muggle carrying medical equipment, dashed to help Luna, Hermione and Ginny. Bree recognized some of the faces that were rushing in to fight the Death Eaters, like Otto, Unvle Vince, Ben, Tonks, Sirius, Remus, Moody, and Shacklebolt.

"Sirius!" Harry called out.

"Take the prophecy and get out of here!" Sirius called as more Death Eaters ran intothe room to help their fellows.

"Time to run!" Bree shouted, grabbing Neville had Harry and pulling them through one of the unsealed doors.

"And we're back in the clock ro… Why is there a man with the head of a baby? I'm pretty sure there was no baby-headed man when I was here before, kind of hard to miss that. At the cabinet wasn't smashing itself to bits and repairing itself over and over." Bree rambled. "Was there a fight in here?"

"Yes. And now we need to go this way." Harry said as her grabbed Bree's shoulders and steered her out of the room.

They were back in the circular room with all the doors.

They could hear the sounds of fighting behind the sealed door.

"Will the others be alright?" Harry asked, staring at the door.

"They're probably being prepped for evacuation even as we speak." Bree replied.

"What do be do bow?" Neville asked.

"That's easy." Bree said stepping forward. "Show me the exit!" she shouted, pointing at the door in front of her. The door spun around again. When it stopped, Bree opened the door she was left pointing at. It was the exit.

"How to you do know to do that?" Harry asked as they left the Department of Mysteries.

Bree laughed. "I didn't!" They ran down the hallway to the lift.

When they got to the Atrium, they stopped by the fountain to catch their breath.

"Well, at least now there's no way Voldemort's going to get the prophecy." Harry stated.

"Are you sure about that, Potter?" said a high cold voice.

Tall, thin and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes staring… Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood frozen, quite unable to move. Neville's eyes were wide with fear. Earlier in the day Bree might have been more apprehensive, might have remembered the pain of the Cruciatus, but right now she didn't. She giggled.

"So the boss shows up to finish what his minions started. It's so hard to find good help these days." She said.

"Hand over the prophecy, Potter, and I won't make you watch your friends die where they stand." Voldemort stated.

"So you'll kill him first then?" Bree inquired. She snatched the orb from Harry's hand.

"If you attack, I'll smash the orb. If more of your minions show up and attack, I'll smash the orb. If you move towards me, I'll smash the orb." She said as she walked around the fountain, pulling Harry and Neville along with her so the the fountain was between them and Voldemort. "So really, all of your options result in a smashed orb." She stated as she focused on her magic reserves, putting it all together so use it all at once for one powerful spell.

"Reducto." The spell had more power behind it than any other spell Bree had ever cast. When it hit the fountain there was an explosion followed by a geyser of water. Bree ran for the fireplaces that ran along one wall and got Neville and Harry to do the same.

"Number Twelve Grimmald Place!"

* * *

Bree groaned as she stumbled out of the fireplace.

"Well that just made my headache worse." She muttered. She flopped onto a couch in the sitting room and buried her face in the cushions.

"Er, are you alright?" Harry asked, slumping into a nearby chair. "You've been acting strangely ever since you touched that orb."

Bree turned her head so she could look at Harry. "My mind has been shaken like a snow globe and I'm pretty sure something came loose." She stated. She rolled over onto her back and held up the prophecy orb.

"All that trouble over this thing." She said. She tossed it to the floor. The glass smashed and out came the figure of Professor Trelawney.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..."

There was a moment of silence.

"That's why Voldemort wants you dead? Seriously?" Bree asked incredulously.

"That could hab been be." Neville murmured.

"So I have to be the one to defeat Voldemort." Harry said.

"Not necessarily." Bree replied.

"But the prophecy-" Harry began to protest, but was cut off by Bree.

"Is just a bunch of words. People use words like "fate" and "destiny" when they don't want to take responsibility for their own lives. By saying that you're fated to beat Voldemort it leaves all the fighting to you and makes it so that no one else has to take action." Bree sighed.

"So really, it's all up to you right now. If you choose to believe the prophecy, then it's decided. If you don't believe it, then it can be changed." She stated. "I'll leave you to think on that, right now I'm going to sleep." Bree rolled over and did just that.


	66. Year 5: Wonderland Repair Service

**So "SomeofAwe" says "Amazing story! The only thing I don't like is how Harry is still such a golden boy after spending years with Bree's delightfully corruptive influence... Also, please let Ginny be run over by a hippogriff... or tardis... she's that annoying."**

**Well, it's like when you're little. Bree is that one kid that tells you Santa isn't real, but your parents and your friends tell you he is, you believe your parents right? Later you start thinking that maybe that one kid was right, but you don't want to believe it so you still act like Santa exists until you finally have to grow up and admit there is no Santa. Harry is still at the "acting like Santa exists" stage. Dumbledore is Santa in this analogy.**

**As for Ginny, I don't really have a problem with her, certainly not enough to run her over. **

* * *

"Wow. It's like an earthquake hit." Bree stated as she surveyed her mindscape.

"Yep. That's what you get for touching the mystery orb." Replied the Not-Bree. "Here, you'll need this." She said, handing Bree a catch-pole.

"What's this for?" Bree asked.

"The nightmares are in the garden. We've got to stick them back in the forest." Not-Bree responded. She was wearing a safari outfit that had appeared on her body out of nowhere. She was holding a net.

"Great." Bree muttered.

* * *

"Wow you've really upped the security for the forest." Not-Bree stated as she watched Bree adjust a large mirror that was hanging in midair.

"What security?" Bree muttered. "It was just a pathway that led into a dark creepy forest. Putting the forest inside of a mirror inside of a dark room full of other mirrors is a massive improvement. Good luck finding the exit now you stupid nightmares!"

Not-Bree peered into the mirror once Bree had gotten it just right.

"The Not-TARDIS isn't in there!" Not-Bree chirped.

They found the Not-TARDIS in the middle of the Chessboard. It had apparently crashed and left deep fissures radiating out from where it had impacted. The windows of the Not-TARDIS were cracked and one of the doors wasn't hanging right. Bree pried open the door and stepped inside. The console was cracked and photos (the magical kind) were flying out of the cracks and up into the air. Most of the pictures were either blurry or full of static.

Not-Bree looked in. "I'll get the net and the duct tape!" she exclaimed.

* * *

"Get. In. The. Stupid. Mirror!" Bree grunted as she tried to stuff the Not-TARDIS into the mirror that contained the Forest of Nightmares with a plunger.

"Why don't you just make the mirror bigger?" Not-Bree asked. Bree stopped and stared at Not-Bree for a moment. She grumbled something under her breath as she made the mirror bigger at put the Not-TARDIS back into its clearing.

* * *

Bree sighed as she flopped into the grass in between the Chessboard Battlefield and the new Door to Nowhere which actually opened up into Hall of a Thousand Mirrors.

"Are we done now?" she asked.

"Well, we've put the nightmares back in the forest, made in so those bastards won't be able to get out of the Hall of a Thousand Mirrors if they escape again, fixed the Garden of Good Memories, rebuilt the Canyon of Graves, put the memories that aren't back into the Not-TARDIS console, and everything else was taken care of by the others, so… we're done." Not-Bree replied.

"So I can wake up now and I won't by all loopy?" Bree inquired.

"Yeah, but I liked it when you were loopy, you listened to me more." Not- Bree pouted. "Anyway, it probably would be a good idea for you to wake up now. You've been in a coma and people are worried."

"Wait, what?" Bree said. Then she woke up.

* * *

Before we go over what happened after Bree woke up, let's go over what happened after she fell asleep. Shortly after Bree had fallen asleep Sirius, Remus, and Aunt Lisa appeared. Lisa immediately went over to Bree. They took the teens back to Hogwarts. Bree didn't wake up so Sirius had to carry her.

"Poor thing is exhausted." Lisa murmured.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was already fussing over Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Luna. She fixed up Neville's nose and used a couple of diagnostic spells on Bree.

"She's suffering from severe magical exhaustion. I won't be able to tell you much else until she wakes up." The nurse reported.

After everyone was settled, Sirius explained what had happened after Harry, Bree, and Neville had left the ministry. Dumbledore had shown up and fought Voldemort until some Ministry workers, including the Minister of Magic, had appeared. Voldemort fled and the Death Eaters were apprehended.

"But how did you know we were at the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"Ben told me." Lisa explained. "I alerted Sirius, and since there were several members of the Order of the Phoenix present, they were informed as well, and I suppose that one of them told Dumbledore."

"How did Professor Grimsley know?" Ron inquired.

"Alice told him." Lisa informed him.

"Alice?" Neville said in confusion. Lisa looked around.

"Oh for the love of…" she sighed and walked over to one of the curtains.

"Just ignore the girl behind the curtain." A voice that sounded a lot like Bree said.

"There's no need to be so shy." Lisa replied.

"Yes there is." The voice responded. Lisa grabbed the owner of the voice and pulled her over to where the others were.

"This is my daughter Alice." Lisa announced proudly.

"There are two of them." Ron murmured as he looked from Alice, to the bed where Bree was and back.

"You have a strong resemblance to Bree." Luna commented.

"Well we're cousins." Alice muttered as she fiddled with the invisibility cloak she was carrying. "Here." She said, holding it out the Harry. "I picked it up from Umbridge's office after I was done drawing on all the unconscious Slytherins."

"Er- thanks." Harry said as he took the cloak from Alice.

"Wait." Said Ginny. "Why was she here earlier?"

"American schools get out earlier than British ones." Lisa explained. "Alice got kind of bored and decided to come visit her cousin."

"That's not it at all." Alice mouthed behind her Mother's back.

"Bree took the cloak so that Alice could move around the school without being found by Umbridge." Lisa continued, unaware of what Alice was doing. Dumbledore walked in and Lisa pulled him out into the hall to confront him. Alice looked over at the closed door her Mom had just walked out of before looking back at everyone else.

"Mom's pregnant. It's terrifying." She explained.

"You came here to hide from your Mum?" Ginny asked incredulously. Shouting could be heard from the hall.

"Yes." Alice replied.

* * *

The next day, everyone had had a nice rest. Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Harry were all allowed to leave the hospital wing.

There were still deep welts on Ron's forearms where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around him. According to Madam Pomfrey, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, though since she had started applying copious amounts of Dr. Ubbly's Oblivious Unction there seemed to have been some improvement.

The curse that had been had used on Hermione had caused, in Madam Pomfrey's words, 'quite enough damage to be going on with'. She had to take ten different types of potion every day.

Bree had not woken up. She was eerily still and none of Madam Pomfrey's efforts were able to wake her.

"But she was fine. She was acting a bit strange… er than normal, but she was fine." Harry said.

No one who examined Bree had any explanation for why she would not wake up other than some kind of delayed effect after touching the prophecy orb in the department of mysteries.

* * *

Dumbledore was reinstated as headmaster. He had sent for Harry so that he could speak to him. Before Harry went up to the headmaster's office, Sirius pulled him aside.

"Listen Harry, I know that Dumbledore is a powerful and widely respected wizards, but he cannot be trusted." Sirius said.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"He's manipulative and a liar." Sirius stated.

"Bree told me the same thing after she found out about my occulumency lessons with Snape." Harry said quietly.

"You should listen to her." Sirius replied.

"But, I mean… Dumbledore always tries to do what's best for people, doesn't he?" Harry asked.

* * *

It had been three days since Bree had gone to sleep. Bree's parents hadn't been informed yet because Bree's mother had decided to let Lisa and Vince handle anything that happened while Bree was at Hogwarts because they were trying to be in denial about the full scope of magic. Bree was enough of a danger to herself without being able to create fire from thin air. Bree wasn't allowed to use magic in the outside of school so any trouble she got into they could handle. Throuble she got into at school was more like "What the, how is that even possible?"

Lisa and Vince were hoping Bree would wake up before summer break, because if she didn't they would have to explain visions and prophecy orbs and how seven teenagers were able to get into a highly restricted section of the Ministry of Magic, and frankly that would lead to a lot of yelling, not only from Bree's Mother but from her Father as well, which had only happened once in all of Bree's fifteen years.

* * *

The story of what had happened at the Department of Mysteries had been told many times. Especially the parts about Bree, because the Healers were trying to figure what was wrong with her. The story found its way to Dumbledore. The headmaster became concerned that Bree would become a target if the Death Eaters believed she was a seer. He suggested that there be guards assigned to protect her, and of course the guards would be from the Order of the Phoenix.

Lisa went ballistic. She was offended that Dumbledore had implied that she couldn't protect her family. She pointed out that Dumbledore had once attacked Bree himself, so why would she let any of his little groupies near her niece.

"Mom, all that stress is bad for the baby." Alice reminded Lisa.

"You're right sweetie. I should do something relaxing. Go get Mommy's shotgun." Lisa replied.

After some therapeutic blasting of stuff, Lisa stationed herself outside of the hospital wing in a massage chair for the express purpose of keeping Dumbledore away from her niece. Her bodyguards, Fiona, an Irishwoman with red hair and green eyes who was in her early thirties and built like an amazon, and Owen, Fiona's younger brother who was twenty- five and well built, were there with Lisa.

The twins came and visited Bree every day after they found out Bree was in a coma. Not at the same time though, one of them had to run the shop.

Five days after Bree had gone to sleep, George was visiting. He was sitting in chair by Bree's bed, holding her hand.

"You really care about her don't you?" Alice murmured.

"Yeah." George replied softly. "Seeing her like this it's…"

"It's not normal. She's always so loud and vibrant." Alice finished.

"Yeah." George agreed. "… So are you two close?"

"Well… yeah. I mean… I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for her." Alice responded.

George looked surprised, but before he could ask anything shouting up from the out in the hallway. Alice sighed.

"I'd better go make sure she doesn't shoot someone, since Daddy's to scared of her right now to even show up here." She said. She went out into the hall. She found her mother screaming at Dumbledore, two Aurors, and three Healers from St. Mungo's, all of whom were there to move Bree to the long term ward since it seemed that she would not be waking up for a long time.

Meanwhile, back in the hospital wing…

George was staring at the door Alice had just walked out of. The yelling had intensified and he was fairly sure he could hear Alice saying "Think of the baby, Mom, think of the baby." He didn't notice that Bree had opened her eyes until she squeezed his hand and tried to sit up.

"Bree!" George exclaimed. "You're awake!" He grabbed her and hugged her.

"George?" Bree said, her voice slightly muffled by his chest. "How long was I asleep?"

"Five days." He murmured. "They didn't know when you were going to wake up."

"Oh." Bree replied. The doors burst open.

"Mrs. Smith, I must insist that" one of the healers was saying. Silence descended when everyone saw that Bree was awake. Lisa and Alice rushed forward to embrace Bree, pushing George to the side.

"We were so worried." Lisa sobbed.

"That's nice; can I have some air now?" Bree wheezed. Alice and Lisa let her go. Lisa turned to the healers, the Aurors, and Dumbledore.

"Well, I see no need to transfer her to St. Mungo's." she stated.

* * *

Hagrid had returned while Bree asleep. Grawp had apparently missed him and was easier to be around. Hagrid was talking about getting him a "Lady friend."

Umbridge had been rescued from the centaurs by Dumbledore. Since she had returned to the castle she had not, as far as any of them knew, uttered a single word. Nobody really knew what was wrong with her, either. Her usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise she seemed to be quite unscathed.

"Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock," whispered Hermione.

"Sulking, more like," said Ginny

"Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this," said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clipclopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

"Anything wrong, Professor?" called Madam Pomfrey, poking her head around her office door.

"No… no…" said Umbridge, sinking back into her pillows. "No, I must have been dreaming…"

Bree squeezed her eyes shut and muttered "I know nothing about the centaurs of Greek Mythology. I know nothing about the centaurs of Greek Mythology."

"Speaking of centaurs," said Hermione, when she had recovered a little, "who's Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?"

"He's got to," said Harry, "the other centaurs won't take him back, will they?"

"It looks like he and Trelawney are both going to teach," said Ginny

"Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good," said Ron.

"Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better…"

"How can you say that?" Hermione demanded. "After we've just found out that there are real prophecies?"

"Prophecies don't necessarily dictate a person's life unless that person lets them." Bree stated before looking pointedly at Harry.

Professor Umbridge left Hogwarts the day before the end of term. It seemed she had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart undetected, but unfortunately for her, she met Peeves on the way, who seized his last chance to do as Fred had instructed, and chased her gleefully from the premises whacking her alternately with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk.

Many students ran out into the Entrance Hall to watch her running away down the path and the Heads of Houses tried only half-heartedly to restrain them. Indeed, Professor McGonagall sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrance's and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umbridge herself, because Peeves had borrowed the walking stick she needed while she was recovering from the four stunners she had taken to the chest.

The next day Bree ran into Luna on her way to the Great Hall for the last feast of the school year.

"What are you doing Luna?" Bree asked.

"Hogwarts in helping me find my things." Lunaa answered serenely. I' "People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back."

Bree frowned. "I'll have to do something about that next year." She muttered.

"Need any help?" she asked.

"Oh, no." Luna replied. "I'm almost done. Hogwarts had been very helpful."

"Alright then." Bree replied.

* * *

The journey home on the Hogwarts Express next day was eventful in several ways. Firstly Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses since they felt Harry was responsible for the imprisonment of their fathers, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of D.A. members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid. By the time Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot had finished using a wide variety of the hexes and jinxes Harry had taught them, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Hogwarts uniforms as Harry, Ernie and Justin hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

"I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets off the train," said Ernie, with some satisfaction, as he watched Malfoy squirm above him. Ernie had never quite got over the indignity of Malfoy docking points from Hufflepuff during his brief spell as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.

"Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though," said Ron, who had come to investigate the source of the commotion. "He's loads better looking now… anyway, Harry, the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything…"

Bree impatiently walked up and down the length of the train. She wanted to talk to her Aunt and Uncle where they could discuss getting rid of Umbridge and how to go about watching Azakaban since the dementors had revolted and there were likely to be escapes. Finally Hermione grabbed her and made her sit down.

"You just got out of a coma." She reprimanded. "You need to be resting." Bree grumbled that she had already gotten plenty of rest, but she complied anyway.

"Did the healers ever figure out why you went into a coma?" Harry asked.

"No." Bree replied. "But then again I didn't tell them."

"Wait," said Hermione. "You know why you were in a coma?"

"Yes. The magic that protected the prophecy orb designated it for one man; anyone else would have their mind destroyed." Bree explained.

"You didn't." Ron pointed out.

"The magic hit the barrier around my mind and it got confused." Bree stated.

"Because you're the one who gave the prophecy, right?" Hermione guessed.

"No. It's because the barrier around my mind was put there by the man the prophecy was meant for." Bree corrected.

"You mean the Doctor?" Hermione asked. Bree nodded. "You've actually met the Doctor?"

"Of course I have." Bree replied. "Otherwise, he's just a story, isn't he? Besides, you all have met him too."

"I think I'd remember that." Ron stated.

"Remember John Smith from last year?" Bree asked.

"You're not saying that," Hermione began, stunned. "That John Smith was the Doctor?"

"Is the Doctor." Bree stated.

"Why was he at the tournament?" Harry asked.

"To watch it, of course." Bree answered. "Anyway, the magic hit the barrier and, after shaking my mind like a snowglobe, backed of because it had gotten confused. The result probably would have been about the same even if I'd picked up an orbnot meant for the Doctor. The barrier the Doctor put around my mind is very powerful.

"If he's so powerful why doesn't he do something about the Dark Lord?" Ron asked.

"He's not powerful in the way you're thinking of. He's not a wizard. He's very old and very clever, and anyway, I already said it. The Death Eaters are not a big enough threat." Bree replied.

"They seem like a pretty big threat to me." Ron muttered. Bree grinned.

"Good, because once Voldemort is defeated you'll feel safe. Of course you won't be safe. There's about a billion other things out there just waiting to burn the whole world. But it's best you pretend you're safe, so you can sleep at night. You'll be safe, but not really." She stated.

"What things want to destroy the world?" Hermione asked.

"You're better off not knowing. Having that kind of knowledge… it changes people. It changed Percy, it made me who I am." Bree explained.

"What about Percy?" Ron asked.

"Don't worry about it." Bree replied.

"Don't worry about it!" Ron shouted. "He's my brother!"

"I thought you hated him." Bree stated. "I've heard you complain about him practically since the day I met you. You always have nice things to say about your other brothers, but you've never complimented Percy even once. He's always been the odd one out in your family. He's not "fun" so you and your siblings tend to ignore him."

Ron was silent.

"You know, Percy's convinced that your whole family hates him, especially after that fiasco at the hospital. Dumbledore is mentioned and it starts a fight." Bree sighed. "Percy had a point you know. Your father wouldn't had gotten injured if Dumbledore hadn't put him on guard duty, and putting someone without training in charge of protecting someone that will tear apart the mind of anyone that isn't meant to have it is a very bad, not to mention stupid and irresponsible, idea."

Bree sighed again. "He may have been great once, he may have even truly cared about people, but he's gotten so old. My mother has treated many patients since she first started working. I've visited her workplace, I've seen some of her patients. Some are young, most are elderly. The older you are, the more you need to visit a hospital. You see, as you age your cells decay, your joints wear out it becomes difficult, even painful, to move. It becomes hard to do little things like dressing yourself. Your mind loses function. Something as simple as tripping and falling can be devastating as your bones become brittle. Age is the most widespread and devastating disease of all."

It was silent in the compartment until the train arrived at King's Cross.

When the ticket inspector signaled to Harry, Ron and Hermione that it was safe to walk through the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, however, he found a surprise awaiting him on the other side: a group of people standing there to greet him who he had not expected at all.

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous traveling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters. Next to Tonks was Remus, who seemed to have gotten a better wardrobe. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, Sirius, in leather and denim, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.

"Ron, Ginny!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children tightly "Oh, and Harry dear - how are you?"

"Fine," said Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Was Ron goggling at the twins' new clothes.

"What are they supposed to be?" he asked, pointing at the jackets.

"Finest dragonskin, little bro'," said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves."

"Hello, Harry" said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and turned to greet Hermione.

"Hi," said Harry "I didn't expect… what are you all doing here?"

"Their obviously here in case snake face tries something." Bree replied before she too was swept up in a hug by Mrs. Weasley.

"We were so worried about you!" she told Bree, fussing over the blond a bit before releasing her. Bree walked over to the twins.

"So what do you think?" George asked, showing off his new jacket.

"It would look better in a different color. And by different I mean, any color that dosen't make my eyes scream, "Rip me out! Please rip me out!" I'm thinking black." Bree stated before running her hand down the arm of George's jacket in order to feel the material. "Yes, I think black would look very good on you."

George went red.

"Bree!" a voice called out. Bree turned and found herself being hugged by her Aunt.

"We've got a lot to talk about." Said Lisa.


	67. Summer: Fear of Rejection

**Sorry that this took awhile, but my motivation is tied directly tp the number of reviews I get.**

* * *

Bree stretched out in the back of her Aunt Lisa's limo. The driver was a burly man with a scar over one on. In the back with Bree were Lisa, Lisa's body guards, Rita, and Percy.

"So it's looking like Fudge isn't going to be Minister for much longer." Bree commented.

"Yes. It seems that just about everyone in Britain is calling for this dismissal." Percy replied.

"So there's nothing for us to do on that front. His career is sunk." Lisa stated.

"What about Umbridge?" Bree asked.

"She's resumed her job at the ministry." Percy replied.

Bree frowned. "Well that's no good." She said. "A woman with her personality and ideals can cause a lot a lot of problems if she's successful in the ministry."

"So do we sabotage her job, or do we end her life?" Lisa asked her niece.

"Hmm, sabotage would add too many unnecessary risks to the lives of or ministry insiders when they're already taking so many just gathering information." Bree answered. "Killing her would be quite a bit easier… Poison would be the least obvious." Lisa watched her niece as Bree thought out a solution to the problem.

"Arsenic can mimic certain illnesses, the problem with that though is you have to keep administering it… Something that you only have to get her to take once... hmm, how about puffer fish toxin?" she suggested.

"Puffer fish toxin?" Rita questioned.

"It's a neurotoxin. Basically, it causes paralysis. Well, no actually, it's a bit more complex than that. It's known to cause quite a bit more than that. It can cause headaches, excessive drooling, convulsions, respiratory distress, respiratory failure, convulsions, inability to speak, incoordination, numbness and tingling, mental impairment, vomiting, diarrhea, irregular heartbeat and cardiac arrest. It's faster than arsenic, but still causes suffering." Bree explained.

Rita stared at her. "You're like an encyclopedia of all things horrible, aren't you?" she said after a moment.

"That's one way to put it I suppose." Bree said. "But really I just know to much."

"What do we do about Dumbledore?" Lisa asked. "He's back in favor with the public, as if the fact he was right about this one thing makes up for every mistake he's made." She said disgustedly.

"Yes, well, people are very fickle." Bree replied.

"She I know, as long as they have someone to vilify they're happy, and right now Fudge is filling that role. We'd have to dig up something really shocking to put focus back on Dumbledore." Lisa responded.

"Maybe not." Bree murmured. She got some curious looks. "I was saying earlier on the train, Dumbledore has gotten quite old, he's been at this for a very long time… Instead of focusing on a shocking story all we need to focus on a single question." She said.

"What question?" Rita asked.

"Don't you think Dumbledore is looking tired?" Bree asked.

* * *

Percy sighed as he entered his apartment. Back when he was a Prefect at Hogwarts he had been forced to deal with Bree's antics almost daily. Her pranks had been playful, not malicious, and sure she would get revenge for something, but she had never injured anyone.

And now she was plotting a murder and her family was encouraging her.

"This is so messed up." Percy muttered. He just wanted to go to sleep. He disrobed at got ready for bed. Problem was there was already someone in it.

"Alice! What are you doing here!" Percy exclaimed.

"Reading." Alice answered, holding up her book. "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" she asked.

"I sleep without a shirt- That's not the point! Why aren't you at your house, in your own bed, reading your own book!" Percy said.

"Mom's pregnant. Daddy said he wishes he could go into hiding until the baby's born like he did last time, but with the whole Dark Lord thing he has to stay put. I heard that the Russians have gone into hiding too, after what happened last time. So decided it come hide out here." Alice explained.

"Why here?" Percy questioned. "Why me?"

"Can't stay with Bree, and you're the only one that has never mistaken me for her." Alice answered. "Anyway, Daddy said it's okay as long as I tell you that he says "Try anything with her and you'll be less of a man." Whatever that means."

There was a long moment of silence. Percy left the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Alice asked.

"To sleep on the sofa." Percy replied.

Percy sighed as he got comfortable. His life was being taken over by Bree's family. Alice didn't have the same sort of darkness and malice that Bree had developed over the last year. She was still like Bree, but they weren't exactly alike as they had first been. Alice was more innocent then Bree. He wondered if Vince had allowed Alice to stay at Percy's apartment to keep it that way.

* * *

On July Third, Bree was home alone and her parents were at work, though they had wished their daughter a happy birthday and shared a secretive smile over something. Bree hoped that they hadn't planned anything for her birthday, because she already had plans that involved sitting on the couch watching TV.

The doorbell rang. Bree sighed and got up to answer it. She found the twins standing on her doorstep.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked.

"What kind of guy would I be if I forgot my girlfriend's birthday?" George answered.

"George," Bree began, "you really don't have to-"

"Of course I do!" George interrupted, grabbing Bree and pulling her to his side before they Apparated to the Burrow. As soon as they arrived Fleur, Ginny and Tonks grabbed Bree and dragged her into Ginny's bedroom. There were shouts of "What do you think you're doing?", "Hold still!", and "This would be easier for all of us if you'd just cooperate!" before Bree was shoved out of the room wearing a blue dress.

Bree blinked. "I feel confused and violated." She stated. The twins chuckled.

"Come on, we've got a surprise for you." Fred said as he and George led her outside.

There had been a large tent put up in the yard. It had been lavishly decorated inside and out. There were tables set up, and there was a stage for a band.

"What's this all for?" Bree asked.

"For your birthday of course." George replied.

"Sirius has been planning this for months." Fred explained.

"Why?" Bree asked.

"To make up for all the horrible birthdays you've had since you were nine." A voice explained from behind them. They turned and found Sirius, Remus, and Harry walking up.

"And to blow as much money as possible." Sirius continued.

"He wanted to rent a dragon." Remus sighed.

"You didn't let him?" Bree asked disappointedly.

"There isn't a service that rents dragons!" Remus exclaimed.

"Well, not legally anyway." Sirius said.

"How much do the illegal ones cost?" Bree inquired.

Sirius was about to answer so Remus cast a silencing charm on him.

The guests started arriving and it became apparent that everyone Bree knew had been invited. Gifts piled up on one of the tables, the most expensive foods were served and then the Weird Sisters appeared on the stage and the tables were pushed to the sides to make room for dancing.

After about an hour there was a break for cake, made by Mrs. Weasley, to be served.

"Did you hear about Umbridge?" Hermione asked.

"No, what?" Bree asked before taking a bite of her cake.

"Yesterday she fell ill in the Ministry and then died at the hospital." Harry explained.

"And the world became a better place." Said George.

"Just in time for my birthday too." Bree remarked.

After some more talking Bree found out that Fleur was at the Burrow because she was engaged to Bill. They had met after Fleur had started working part-time at Grinngotts and had been dating for a year before Bill proposed.

There was fireworks display, courtesy of the twins, and an acrobatic performance by the magical equivalent of Cirque du Soleil. Afterwards, dancing resumed and as the evening dragged on guests began to leave.

"So what do you think?" George asked Bree as they slow danced on the mostly empty dance floor. "A definite improvement over your other birthdays, right?"

"Yeah." Bree answered. "It was amazing." She kissed him.

* * *

The next day two Unspeakables met with Aunt Lisa. That had suggested that Bree needed to be guarded at all times. Lisa took this about as well as she had when Dumbledore suggested it.

"It not the Death Eaters we're worried about." A dark haired male, code named Wolf, assured her.

"What then?" Lisa snapped.

"You know that there are things in the universe far more dangerous than most can imagine, and they have all been stopped by one man. If those forces find out about the wealth of information inside of your nieces had, they'll target her and find a way to extract the information from her head just so they can destroy the Doctor." A blond woman, code name Fox, explained.

"Do you really think that I didn't consider that possibility? That I haven't been preparing for it?" Lisa asked. "I've had Ben teach her how to kill anything that may come after her, I've trained my people how to kill those same things, I've stockpiled an arsenal of weapons, I've come up with emergency plans for every scenario, do you really think I need your help?"

"You can't possibly account for every-" Wolf began to protest but was cut off.

"I am prepared to burn the world if it means keeping my family safe." Lisa stated.

* * *

Bree's family reunion for the American half of the family took place a few days after her birthday. When she arrived she found that there was plastic covering the floors of the first level of the family house and two of the walls in the living room, aka the room with the cigar smoking ghost, had been torn up. The renovations were supposed to be done before the reunion, but the work had been delayed by accidents.

Except that they weren't accidents. The cigar smoking ghost was not very happy about his house being disturbed. Instead of just being confined to one room as it had been in the past, the entire first floor was full of cigar smoke. The smoke was thickest in the living room. It was so thick in fact, that even the non-magical members of Bree's family were able to pick up whiffs of it.

Bree was miserable. Every time she walked into the house the smoke would invade her lungs and make her cough and wheeze.

"The ghost?" Wes asked.

Bree nodded. "He's not happy about the renovations. Filled the entire first floor with smoke." She said.

"That's him right?" Wes asked, pointing to the picture Bree had once pointed out when describing the cigar smoking ghost.

"Yeah, that's him." Bree confirmed.

"Old Aunt Ruth will know who he is." Wes said as he picked up the picture. "You go out and get some fresh air." Bree did just that.

Later that day, after lunch, Bree had been conscripted into helping wash the dishes. The kitchen was the room with the least amount of smoke in it. It was therefore the only room on the first floor that Bree found tolerable.

Meanwhile an electrician was working on rewiring the living room. The electricity was shut off in that room for safety. Smoke began to build up as the ghost grew more and more unhappy. Bree began coughing and choking as smoke flooded the room.

"Hey, are you alright?" Wally, who had also been forced to wash dishes, asked.

Bree didn't, couldn't, answer. She stumbled out the kitchen door and onto the back porch. The fresh air was a relief.

"Should I get someone?" Wally asked worriedly.

Bree shook her head. "No. I'm fine." She said. There was a scream from inside the house. Wally looked back at Bree to make sure she would be alright before running into the house.

Bree found out later that the electrician had been electrocuted. He was rushed to the hospital where he would was expected to recover, but he would have heart problems for the rest of his life.

That afternoon Wes came up to Bree carrying two shovels.

"Catch." He said, tossing one of them to Bree. She caught it and gave him a questioning look.

"I found the ghost. His name is Edgar Smith. He's buried in an old family plot not too far from here. We're going to take care of him before he kills someone." Wes explained.

"Alright." Bree replied.

An hour later and the two could be found digging up their dead relative's grave. Smoke began to swirl around the grave. Bree pulled a bag of salt out of one of the hidden bigger-on-the-inside compartments hidden in her boots along with a couple of iron rods. She was put on guard duty which meant swinging an iron bar at the ghost of Edgar whenever he appeared while Wes finished digging up the grave.

Bree dispelled Edgar twice before the ghost wised up and smothered her with smoke until she collapsed to her knees. She passed out just as Wes got the coffin open.

* * *

"Bree! Bree!" Wes shouted as Bree regained consciousness. Edgar's body was burning nearby.

"I overlooked the fact that being more sensitive to ghosts would make you more vulnerable as well." Wes stated as Bree sat up.

"Once I'm of age I'll be able to use magic against the supernatural." Bree replied.

"If you're really interested in hunting we can start doing bigger jobs after you graduate, and if you're not, at least you know how to defend yourself." Wes said as he started filling in the grave.

"Yeah, being on the move all the time, fighting monsters day after day, I don't think I'm suited for it." Bree replied.

"Not many are." Wes stated.

Weeks later, long after the reunion was over, a skeleton was found under the floorboards in the living room. It belonged to Edgar's abusive son-in-law.

* * *

The day after Bree got home she went to Diagon Alley to visit twins at their shop. Aunt Lisa had sent Fiona and Ben to guard her. There had been disappearances from the Alley and there had been three attacks on muggles that had been explained as two bridge collapses and a hurricane. Dementors were breeding in the center of London, covering the city in a cold mist and putting the citizens into gloomy moods.

The Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street.

Nobody was stopping to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop Fronts around them, Fred and Georges windows hit the eye like a firework display.

Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harrys eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT

YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT

U-NO-POO —

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION

THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

"Your boyfriend has a death wish." Fiona commented appreciatively.

Bree led the way into the shop. It was packed with customers; Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts. The Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, and Bree pushed her way toward the ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: Reusable hangman - counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten-year-olds was watching a tiny little wooden man slowly spell it or he'll swing!

"It certainly is busy here." Ben stated.

"Yeah, they're doing really well." Bree stated, as she set of to look for the twins elsewhere in the shop.

She found George wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

"Bree! How was the family reunion?" he asked.

"Same old, same old." Bree replied.

"A ghost tried to kill you." Ben pointed out.

"Wes took care of it, then everything went back to normal." Bree responded.

"You're going to have to tell me about that later." George said. "For now I'll give you a tour of the shop."

"Muggle magic tricks!" said George happily, pointing them out. "For freaks like Dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It's not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they're great novelties… Oh, here's Fred…"

"Giving her the tour? Come through the back, Bree, that's where we're making the real money." Fred said.

He pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks and revealed a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued.

"We've just developed this more serious line," said Fred. "Funny how it happened…"

"You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can't do a decent Shield Charm," said George. "'Course, they didn't have Harry teaching them."

"That's right… Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we're still getting massive orders!"

"So we've expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves…"

"… I mean, they wouldn't help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes…"

"And then we thought we'd get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it's such a money spinner," continued George enthusiastically. "This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we're importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape."

"And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves, look," said Fred, pointing at a number of weird-looking black horn-type objects that were indeed attempting to scurry out of sight. "You just drop one surreptitiously and it'll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one."

"Cool." Bree said.

"Here," said George, catching a couple and throwing them to Bree.

"How much?" Bree asked.

"No charge." George replied. "Help yourself to anything you want."

"Really?" Bree said.

"You and Harry gave us our start-up loan, we haven't forgotten," said George sternly "Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask."

They led Bree into the main part of the shop.

"Have you seen our special WonderWitch products yet?" asked Fred. "Follow me."

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically.

"There you go," George said proudly. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

"Do they work?" Bree asked.

"Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question…" Fred began.

"… and the attractiveness of the girl," George finished.

Bree sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Are they legal to sell?" she asked.

"Of course." Fred answered.

"Why wouldn't they be?" George asked.

"Risk of misuse. There are people out there capable of some really, really, _really_, sick and twisted things if the right tools are available. Things that are easier to do when they drug their victims first." Bree explained.

"I'm pretty sure none of these girls are going to do…whatever is you're thinking of." Fred replied.

"You're faith in humanity is really touching Fred. Stupid, but touching. I love profit as much as you do, but I have to draw the line at marketing roofies." Bree stated.

"What are roofies?" Fred asked.

"It's slang for a drug called Rohypnol. It's on the list of things you don't want law enforcement to find when they search your stuff." Bree answered. Something caught her eye.

"Is that a cage full of tiny tribbles?" she asked. She was looking at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.

"You mean the Pygmy Puffs?" said George. "Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed them fast enough."

She put a finger through the bars of the cage and watched the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it.

"They're really cute." She said.

"You want one?" George asked.

Bree thought for a moment. "Nah, Muffin would use it as a living toy… I think I'll get one for Alice though." She answered.

She picked out a purple one to give to Alice.

* * *

Alice answered the door at Percy's apartment. She let Bree, Fiona, and Ben in. Percy was face down on the couch with a bottle of fire whiskey next to him on the floor.

"What's wrong with him?" Fiona asked.

"His girlfriend broke up with him, and that made him depressed." Alice explained. "Well, more depressed than usual. I think he's been rather lonely since the whole thing with his family."

"Is that why you decided to invade his apartment?" Bree asked.

"And Mom's pregnant… With a girl." Alice answered.

"Is that a problem?" Bree inquired.

"Well, it's just, she won't need me anymore, you know?" Alice replied.

"That's ridiculous, Lisa adores you." Fiona stated from over by Percy. Bree sighed.

"What are you doing to Percy?" she questioned.

"I turned him over so he wouldn't suffocate." Fiona replied.

"And then?" Bree pushed.

"… I put lipstick on him." Fiona replied. Bree inspected Fiona's work.

"Add some blush and eye shadow, maybe a little mascara." She suggested before turning back to Alice.

"Fiona's right, just because Aunt Lisa is going to have her own baby doesn't mean she won't love you anymore." Bree stated.

"But I'm not really her daughter!" Alice protested. "I'm not even a real person."

Bree poked her.

"What are you doing?" Alice asked incredulously.

"You feel pretty real to me." Bree replied.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Alice muttered.

Bree sighed. "Whatever you started as, you're human now, and that's all that matters." She stated.

"…Thanks." Alice murmured.

"Here." Bree said, handing Alice the purple Pygmy Puff she had gotten earlier in the day.

"What's this?" Alice asked as she examined the fuzzy squeaking ball.

"A Pygmy Puff." Bree answered. "It's an extremely belated birthday present."

"Birthday present?" Alice said, confused.

"Well, you're birthday is in June, so I kind of forgot about it with the whole Umbridge thing, sorry." Bree responded.

"No, it… it's fine. This is wonderful, thanks." Alice replied.

"Come check out my work!" Fiona exclaimed. Bree and Alice went over to examine Fiona's handiwork.

"Needs a tiara." Bree said.

"And a dress." Alice stated.

* * *

"Alice." Percy said when he finally woke up hours later.

"What?" Alice replied, not looking up from her book.

"Why am I wearing a dress?" Percy asked.

"The makeup and the tiara would just look silly without it." Alice replied. Percy sighed.

"What happen while I was asleep?" he inquired.

"Bree, Ben, and Fiona came over. Fiona put the makeup on you and Ben transfigured your glasses into a tiara and you clothes into a dress." Alice explained.

Percy groped around for his wand and changed his glasses back to normal before stalking off to the bathroom.

"If it's any consolation, you make a very pretty princess!" Alice called after him.

* * *

When Harry's birthday came around Sirius threw a lavish money wasting party.

He rented out a Quidditch stadium and hired two of Britain's best teams to play and there was a pyrotechnical display at the end of the match.

"Remus still won't let me rent a dragon." Sirius complained.

"That's because it's still illegal." Remus replied.

* * *

Bree's O.W.L results had arrived by the time she got home. She opened up the letter.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades:

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades:

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

Bree Louise Smith has achieved:

Astronomy: E

Care of Magical Creatures: E

Charms: E

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Divination: O

Herbology: E

History of Magic: A

Potions: O

Transfiguration: E

"Well, it looks like I get to continue tormenting Snape in potions." Bree mused. "And now the Ministry is probably convinced I'm a seer... I can totally use that to screw with their heads."

* * *

Bree had decided to work at the twins' shop for the rest of the summer. Alice reported that Percy was becoming more depressed because of the breakup with his girlfriend and the isolation from his family. Bree really wanted to tell the twins, but she didn't know how to go about it, and she was unsure how they would react.

She wasn't how much she should tell them, if she told them anything. They already knew about the psychic worm and aliens and they must have guessed that the reason they were able to get materials so cheaply from Leo was because there was something illegal going on. But selling illegal and or smuggled goods wasn't as bad as murder.

So should she just tell them about Percy spying for the Third option? Should she try to recruit them? Should she tell them everything about her Aunts "business"? About Alice? Should she say nothing at all and allow everything to remain at it was, even with the gnawing guilt that she was keeping two people that were very important to her in the dark?

That last one just seemed so… Dumbledorish. But what they didn't know couldn't hurt her, couldn't undermine their whole relationship. Except that it could, once the truth got out. What to do, what to do. She just felt so conflicted.

* * *

**So consider the second to last paragragh to be some questions directed at you, dear reader. I have some ideas about the outcome of each choice, but there are a couple that might end up with a "bad ending" if followed to their logical conclusion. Or you could suggest something completely original and we'll see if I like it.**


	68. Summer: Truth and Trains

**To lizzie: Lisa and Vince have a son that I have mentioned before. He's Bree's cousin Leo who was first mentioned by name way back in chapter 39, which is also the chapter where we first see Vince.**

* * *

Alice came to visit after the shop and closed and Bree was restocking shelves.

"What are you doing here?" Bree asked in a hushed tone.

"I needed to talk to you in person." Alice replied, her voice equally hushed.

"What is it?" Bree hissed.

"Percy's getting worse." Alice muttered. "He's feels isolated."

"He is isolated." Bree pointed out.

Alice sighed. "We need to do something to correct that. It's kind of our fault." she said.

Bree made an irritated sound.

"And what do you suggest we do about it?" she asked.

"Tell his double trouble brothers that he isn't a complete prat, like they think he is." Alice answered.

"I knew you'd say that." Bree grumbled.

Alice shrugged. "Great minds…" she said.

"The problem with that is, just how much to tell?" Bree said.

"Why not just tell them everything?" Alice suggested.

"Everything?" Bree questioned.

Alice nodded. "You trust them don't you? I mean you are dating George. And if you don't tell them and they find out later…"

"You don't seem to be aware of what "everything" entails." Bree stated. "It's more than just Percy's current position. It's my involvement in Umbridge's death. It's the truth behind "the family business." It's everything that happened the day you were born. It's how you came to be."

There was a flicker of fear in Alice's eyes.

"Do who really want to tell them everything?" Bree asked.

Alice steeled herself and gave Bree a determined look. "Yes." She answered.

Bree let out a little laugh. "I know. So do I." she said. "We're both changing, but I guess we're not all that different yet."

She walked over to the back room. "Fred! George! You two come out here!" she called.

"There's no proof that we did it!" two voices yelled back. Bree blinked.

"What?" she question incredulously.

"Sorry." George said as he walked out of the back room. "Force of habit."

"Usually it's Mum or McGonagall yelling at us." Fred stated as he followed his brother.

"So what is it you need?" George asked.

"We need to talk." Bree stated reluctantly.

"About what?" Fred inquired.

"About Percy." Alice replied somewhat quietly, she was always a bit nervous and awkward around the twins.

Both twins gained unhappy frowns.

"What about him?" George asked.

"He's not doing well." Alice stated.

"Yes, it seems your brother is on the slow path of self destruction that ends with liver failure and death." Bree added.

"What?" Fred said.

"He's turning into an alcoholic, and not a funny alcoholic like Snape, he's becoming a sad and depressing alcoholic that's bound to suck all the comedy out of the story, and we really can't have that." Bree explained.

"And what do you want us to do about that?" George questioned.

"Well one of the reasons that Percy has turned to alcoholism is because he's feeling isolated from his family." Bree replied.

"It's his own fault." Fred stated.

"He could have admitted that he was wrong about Voldemort being back." George said.

"Oh, he was never in doubt about that." Bree interrupted.

"He always knew Voldemort was back, that was never in contention." Alice stated.

"Of course I suppose you didn't know that because you left after he started fighting with your mother." Bree continued.

"The problem isn't the Volodemort issue, the problem is Dumbledore." Alice explained.

"Dumbledore is a manipulative old coot that takes credit for the work of others." Bree stated.

"You've said that before." George said.

"It's true." Alice replied.

"Dumbledore didn't show up to defeat Grindelwald until the Axis was already losing." Bree told them.

"If he was really that powerful, couldn't he have turned the war around before America got involved?" Alice asked.

"All the battles fought and the lives lost and he swooped in at the last second to claim all the glory." Bree said.

"And then with Voldy's first rise…" Alice trailed off.

"Oh don't even get me started on that, taking credit for what Aunt Lisa's forces were doing… disgusting." Bree hissed.

"And when the Aurors that belong to his little group do something right he takes credit for that as well. I mean, it's not like their Auror training had anything to do with it." Alice said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, you've raise some good points," George began, "but I have a couple of questions: How are you doing that and what did your Aunt do during the last war?"

"Doing what?" Alice asked.

"I think he means the thing where after one of us finishes a sentence the other one continues with the following sentence, making a coherent half of a conversation." Bree replied.

"Yes, that. That's what Fred I usually do, how are you doing it?" George asked.

"It's just a simple as knowing what the other person well enough to be able to accurately predict what they are going to say next and saying it for them." Alice explained.

"But how do you know that? I mean, Bree grew up in America, and Alice, your parents have always lived in England." Fred said.

"We're getting to that part, but George asked two questions, let's address the second one." Bree stated.

"Mom killed Death Eaters during the last "war", though I wouldn't really call it a war, unless you count a war on terror." Alice stated.

"America does." Bree responded.

"Okay then." Alice said.

"Your Mom killed Death Eaters?" George asked skeptically.

"Yep." Alice replied.

"But how did she even know about them? She's a muggle isn't she?" Fred inquired.

"Well yeah." Bree answered. "But the Queen of Crime gets certain privileges that others don't."

"Queen of Crime?" George questioned.

"That's right." Said Alice.

"Aunt Lisa's organization has been around for generations, and her ancestors have had dealings with many races from many worlds. She and Uncle Vince knew that alien were real before I was even born, and magic has had and influence in the organization for as long as anyone can remember." Bree told them.

"During the last war there was a division between light and dark, Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore and Voldemort. It seemed that there were only to options, but my parents gave people a third." Alice explained.

"They actually trained their new forces to make sure that they were ready to fight and they also made sure that some of them specialized in healing. Best of all, they put muggle and magical fighters together on the field." Bree stated.

"Bullets travel faster than most spells, but muggles can't cast protection charms." Alice elaborated.

"Aunt Lisa has spies within the ministry." Bree stated.

"Percy's one of them." Alice said.

"What!" George exclaimed.

"Since when!" Fred shouted.

"Um…?" Alice said, looking to Bree for an answer.

"Since he got his promotion." Bree replied.

"But why would he-" George began, Bree cut him off.

"That… is a very long story." She stated.

* * *

She told them everything. To say the twins were shocked would have been an understatement.

"What? But, I mean- she's you?" Fred stammered.

"This is a lot to take in." George stated.

Bree was staring at the floor; Alice rubbed the back of her head and didn't make eye contact with anyone.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" George asked.

"I was scared." Bree murmured.

"Why?" George inquired softly, lifting Bree's chin so that she would look at him.

"My life is really screwed up, my Aunt is feared by the Russian mob, the secrets of the universe are inside my head, and I have clone with all of my memories up until the day she was born, who would want to be involved in that?" Bree replied, distressed.

"I would." George answered immediately. Bree's eyes widened in shock.

"What?" she asked weekly.

"We've known you were different ever since we first met you on the train." Fred answered. "Admittedly we didn't know how different, but you've always been our friend, and now George's girlfriend, and that's not going to change just because your life is more complicated than we ever could have imagined."

"This does make being around Alice a bit awkward though." George stated.

"So, don't think of her as being me, because she's not, not anymore. It's like, we started out as the same person, but we're going two different ways and becoming different people, and who knows what we'll be down the line." Bree replied. There was silence for a moment.

"So…" Alice began, "Can you two visit Percy while were away at school and keep him from killing his liver?"

"Yeah."

"Definitely."

"Now that we know he's not as much of a prat as we thought he was."

"Great!" said Alice. "So what now?"

Bree thought for a moment before turning to George.

"Want to go on a date?" she asked him.

"What do you feel like doing?" he replied.

"Let's go get ice cream!" Bree suggested.

George frowned. "The parlor closed down, remember?" he said.

Bree rolled her eyes. "Muggles sell ice cream too." She pointed out before grabbing George by the arm and leading him out of the store.

"Seems we've been forgotten." Fred stated.

"Bree gets like that sometimes." Alice replied.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Fred responded.

Alice smiled a bit. "The worst part is that she's got me wanting ice cream." She said.

"Shall we?" Fred asked, offering his arm to her. Alice grinned and looped her arm into his.

* * *

Bree decided that she was going to have fun with Draco that school. Oh yes, so much fun. You see, Draco was up to something, something dark. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had followed Draco into Knockturn Alley where he had gone into Borgin and Burke's and talked to the shopkeeper about something. Something that Draco didn't want his mother to know.

Harry told Sirius, who told Lisa, who in turn told Bree with the instructions to keep an eye on Draco. Bree was going to have so much fun with him. Once she got to Hogwarts that is.

Alice left for America a few days before Bree was to leave for Hogwarts, but before she left Aunt Lisa gave the girls gifts, perception filters. Handy little devices, they generated a field around an object directing attention away from the object or its bearer, rendering them unnoticeable. They're better than an invisibility cloak because even if you bump in someone they won't be surprised because they sort of knew you were there, but weren't really looking at you and even if they try to see what they bumped into their eyes will just slide right over you. It brings a whole new definition to "hiding in plain sight."

Alice's filter looked like a silver pendant with a blue stone set in it. The stone was actually a button to activate the filter. Bree's filter was in the form of a pyramid studded leather bracelet, the button that activated it was disguised as one of the studs.

The gifts were received with gratitude and two identical grins.

Percy had been doing better once the twins started visiting him, secretly, with the help of their own perception filters that Lisa had given them after a long talk about what would happen if they ever did anything that hurt Bree or Alice. Percy complained about the visits, mostly because the twins would barge in at the most inopportune times, like when Percy was changing his clothes or while he was showering and would then try to have a conversation with him as if everything was normal even as Percy shouted at them to get out and wait until he was clothed. Despite his protests it was easy to see that he was happy be spending time with his brothers.

* * *

"I'm not saying that we need to kill all of the stupid people," Bree said as she walked through Kings Cross toward platform 9 ¾, "I just saying that if we took the warning labels off of everything the problem would sort itself out."

"But then where would we get politicians from?" George asked.

"Oh, it would sort itself out." Bree replied.

"It's like they were made for each other." Ben muttered to Fiona.

"I know, isn't it cute!" Fiona replied.

They passed through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"Hey, look! It's the rent-a-cops!" Bree exclaimed pointing out two beaded, stone faced aurors in suits who were apparently there to keep Harry safe.

"Now, now, don't insult them like that," Lisa reprimanded. "Rent-a-cops can at least keep schoolchildren from getting into places they're not supposed to be. It helps that they've been trained to use those new security devices, what were they called? Oh, I know! Locks!"

Both Aurors looked very unhappy.

"Bree, don't antagonize the Aurors. They're here to keep us safe." Hermione scolded.

"Really, with only two officers?" Bree asked incredulously. "I have four body guards. Five if you count Aunt Lisa." She said, gesturing to Lisa, Ben, Otto, Fiona, and Owen.

"Not really a good showing for the ministry here, unless, they're only here to protect Harry, in which case two is just fine, but it does leave everyone else out in the cold so to speak." Bree stated.

"You'd better get on the train, there are only a few minutes to go." Mrs. Weasley said, examining her watch. "George did you come to see everyone off?"

"Er- yeah." George answered.

"Have you told her that we're dating?" Bree whispered.

"No." George answered in a hushed voice. Bree gave him a look.

"You've never seen her when she gets on Bill and Charlie about grandchildren." George replied.

Aunt Lisa suddenly appeared behind the two.

"Alright Bree, it's about time for you to get going, now what do you do if Death Eaters attack?" she asked.

"Tell Dumbledore exactly what I think of him, stupefy him, then use him as a shield." Bree replied.

"Close enough." Lisa replied, giving Bree a kiss on the cheek before skipping away merrily.

"If she was like that when she was expecting Leo I can sort of understand why Uncle Vince decided to hide. Adults shouldn't skip." Bree muttered before turning to George.

"I'll let you know when the first Hogsmade weekend is." She said.

"Alright, I'll see you then." George replied. There was a whistle behind them. Bree gave George a quick kiss before hurrying to get on the train.

"George, did I just see- Are you two dating?" Mrs. Weasley asked. George flinched.

* * *

213. Not allowed to refer to Aurors as rent-a-cops.

625. "Tell Dumbledore exactly what I think of him then stupefying and using him as a shield" is not what we do if there's a Death Eater attack.

* * *

Bree saw Harry not that far ahead of her on the train. People were staring at him as he approached Ginny. Bree activated her perception filter, it worked like a charm. People moved around her but didn't really see her.

"Fancy trying to find a compartment?" Harry asked Ginny.

"I can't, Harry, I said I'd meet Dean," said Ginny brightly. "See you later."

"Right," said Harry. Neither one of them noticed Bree standing nearby.

Then he blinked and looked around: he was surrounded by mesmerized girls.

"Hi, Harry!" said Neville.

"Neville!" Harry exclaimed, relieved.

"Hello, Harry," said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

"Luna, hi, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you," said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside. She looked right at Bree.

"The Quibbler still going strong, then?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," said Luna happily.

"Let's find seats," said Harry, and the three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully.

"They're even staring at us," said Neville, indicating himself and Luna. "Because we're with you!"

"They're staring at you because you were at the Ministry too," said Harry, as he hoisted his trunk into the luggage rack. "Our little adventure there was all over the Daily Prophet, you must've seen it."

"Yes, I thought Gran would be angry about all the publicity," said Neville, "but she was really pleased. Says I'm starting to live up to my dad at long last. She bought me a new wand, look!"

He pulled it out and showed it to Harry.

"Cherry and unicorn hair," he said proudly. "We think it was one of the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished next day-oi, come back here, Trevor!"

And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler.

"No point now we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" said Harry, sitting down. Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from under it. He looked most disappointed.

"I liked the D.A.! I learned loads with you!"

"I enjoyed the meetings too," said Luna serenely. "It was like having friends."

"Oh, don't say that Luna, I'm your friend." Bree stated, deactivating her perception filter and sitting down next to Luna. Harry and Neville jumped.

"How long have you been there?" Harry asked.

"She's been with us ever since we met up earlier; she was being rather quiet though." Luna replied.

"You are a very interesting girl." Bree said to Luna.

There was a disturbance outside their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls was whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass.

"You ask him!"

"No, you!"

"I'll do it!"

And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair pushed her way through the door.

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said loudly and confidently. "Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with them," she added in a stage whisper, indicating Neville's bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat again as he groped around for Trevor, and Luna, who was now wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her the look of a demented, multicolored owl.

"They're friends of mine," said Harry coldly.

"Oh," said the girl, looking very surprised. "Oh. Okay."

And she withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her.

"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," said Luna.

"You are cool," said Harry shortly. "None of them was at the Ministry. They didn't fight with me."

"That's a very nice thing to say," beamed Luna. Then she pushed her Spectrespecs farther up her nose and settled down to read The Quibbler.

Neville emerged from under the seat with fluff and dust in his hair and a resigned-looking Trevor in his hand.

The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy as it had been all summer; they passed through stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Ron and Hermione entered the compartment at last.

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I'm starving," said Ron longingly, slumping into the seat beside Harry and rubbing his stomach. "Hi, Neville. Hi, Luna. Hi, Bree. Guess what?" he added, turning to Harry. "Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."

Harry sat up straight, interested. It was not like Malfoy to pass up the chance to demonstrate his power as prefect, which he had happily abused all the previous year.

"What did he do when he saw you?"

"The usual," said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well... that is"-he did the hand gesture again-"but why isn't he out there bullying first years?"

"Dunno," said Harry, but his mind was racing. Didn't this look as though Malfoy had more important things on his mind than bullying younger students?

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," said Hermione. "Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"I don't think so," said Harry. "I think he's-"

But before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom, Bree Smith, and Harry P-Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out three scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry, Bree, and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his.

"An invitation," said Harry.

"Professor Slughorn wants us to join him for lunch, apparently." Bree stated.

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville, looked perplexedly at his own invitation.

"New teacher," said Harry. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"

"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously, as though he was expecting detention.

"No idea," said Harry, which was not entirely true, though he had no proof yet that his hunch was correct. "Listen," he added, seized by a sudden brain wave, "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what he's up to."

"Have fun with that." Bree replied as Harry moved to retrieve his cloak. His plan wouldn't work, it was too crowded in the corridors, people waiting for the lunch trolley would bump into him and he would be discovered. Bree didn't have that problem. With the perception filter activated she was able to navigate the hall quite easily as students moved out of the way of something they weren't quite aware of. Bree was enjoying the ability to essentially disappear from sight and then reappear at will. It felt so natural.

When Bree got to the compartment she chose not to deactivate the perception filter right away. Instead she observed the occupants of the compartment. A man Bree assumed was Professor Slughorn was there of course. He looked a bit like a walrus in human clothing. There were other students there as well, but before she could identify them all Harry and Neville showed up.

"Harry, m'boy!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville nodded, looking scared.

"Ah, and here's Miss Smith!" Slughorn exclaimed. Harry and Neville glanced back at Bree, bewildered and not quite sure when Bree had arrived.

At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down. It was rather squished. Bree eyed the other guests.

A tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year boys Bree did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Harry and Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course-"

Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting.

"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other-? No?"

McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry and Neville nodded back at him.

"-and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether-?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"-and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.

Ginny grimaced at Harry, Bree, and Neville from behind Slughorn's back.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on Licorice Wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... Pheasant, Belby?"

Belby started, and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Harry, Bree, and Neville, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

"Anapneo," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not... not much of him, no," gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose..." said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Er... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"Now, you, Cormac," said Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said McLaggen. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour-this was before he became Minister, obviously-"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me..."

Everyone there seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential... everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold). It was Neville's turn next: this was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville's interview, Bree felt that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents' flair.

"And Miss Smith, our up and coming young seer!" Slughorn exclaimed when he got to Bree.

"I'm not" Bree began to protest.

"No need to be so modest, I hear you even have a record of one of your prophecies stored in the Department of Mysteries!" Slughorn interrupted.

"That was destroyed along with many others just this past June." Bree replied. "And anyway it wasn't exactly a prophecy."

"What do you mean?" Slughorn asked.

"When a prophecy is given the seer giving it goes into a sort of trance and doesn't remember what they said when they come out of the trance. The prophecy is then subject to interpretation or even twisted for someone's own selfish purposes." Bree explained. She sighed.

"I've never gone into a trance. I always remember what I say and what I said during my Divination exam was not a prophecy, it was an echo. I suppose the echoes are similar to prophecies in that they are both messages meant for certain people, but prophecies are sent through one messenger and echoes are sent through many. When you here an echo all you can do is echo it back." She said.

"And where did you hear this echo?" Slughorn, who had been listening intently to Bree's every word, asked. Bree face betrayed the state of utter confusion that question had sent her into.

"Where did I hear it? I didn't hear it anywhere. It was just there in my head along with everything else I picked up from the universe." Bree answered.

"Do you mean more echoes?" Slughorn asked eagerly.

Bree shrugged. "Some of it. Most of it is memories though. Memories of the human race, where it's been, where it's going." She stated.

"You've seen the future!" Slughorn exclaimed excitedly.

Bree nodded.

"That's quite a gift you have there, Miss Smith!" the Professor complemented.

"In a white elephant sort of way I suppose." Bree replied coldly. Now it was Slughorn's turn to look confused.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"A white elephant is a gift that is considered valuable, is impossible to get rid of, and is detrimental to its owner." Bree explained.

"But knowing the future must have benefits!" Slughorn insisted.

"Humanity's future isn't all that different from its past." Bree responded. It was a rather morbid thought, but it was the truth. "History repeats itself; humanity as a whole will pull through when the next great disaster occurs, though many individuals may not."

"What is the next great disaster?" Slughorn asked worriedly. Bree stared at him for a moment before answering.

"Someone like you is better off not knowing." Bree stated as she stood up. "Just enjoy what time you have left."

And with that final statement she left the compartment and activated her perception filter. Slughorn stuck his head out, as if he wanted to say something to Bree, but to his eyes she had already disappeared.

* * *

**Bree's not even at Hogwarts yet and she's already messing with the teachers.**


	69. Year 6: Poor Draco, He's in for it Now

The moment Bree was on Hogwarts grounds she felt as if she had been swept up into a hug as the school rushed to meet her.

"She missed us." Luna said happily. Neville nodded in agreement.

"I don't think she likes to be left alone with people who can't hear her." Bree stated. She felt a tingle of agreement from the wards.

Hermione came up to them, breathless with a look off panic and worry, as they entered the great hall.

"Have you seen Harry? We can't find him." She said.

"I left Slughorn's get together early." Bree answered. She turned to Neville.

"You stayed, did you see where he went?" she asked.

Neville shook his head. "He said he had something to do." He replied. Bree sighed and turned back to Hermione.

"He had his invisibility cloak with him, he could be right in front of us and you wouldn't see him." She told the bushy haired Gryffindor.

"You don't think he got into any trouble, do you?" Hermione asked.

"Knowing Harry, that's what most likely happened." Bree answered. Hermione looked even more worried.

* * *

Bree let out an irritated sigh as the sorting went on and fought the urge to storm over to the Slytherin table and accost Draco. He had set off a dark magic detection ward, something about him had changed. It was something he now had in common with Snape.

Harry was still missing. Bree sighed again and directed her thoughts elsewhere. Her newest plan to undermine Dumbledore was going better than she had expected. Dumbledore himself was helping the plan unintentionally. Beyond looking "a bit tired" he was now looking downright sick, especially since one of his hands appeared black and dead. It was now quite obvious that he was no longer the man he once was, now to get the wizarding world to realize it.

Harry finally showed up sometime after the sorting. He was still wearing muggle clothes and his face was covered in blood.

"Where've you-blimey, what've you done to your face?" said Ron, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" said Harry, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection.

"You're covered in blood!" said Hermione. "Come here -"

She raised her wand, said "Tergeo!" and siphoned off the dried blood.

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling his now clean face. "How's my nose looking?"

"Normal," said Hermoine anxiously. "Why shouldn't it? Harry, what happened? We've been terrified!"

"I'll tell you later," said Harry curtly. He was very conscious that Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were listening in; even Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had come floating along the bench to eavesdrop.

"But -" said Hermione.

"Not now, Hermione," said Harry, in a darkly significant voice. He reached across Ron for a couple of chicken legs and a handful of chips, but before he could take them they vanished, to be replaced with puddings.

"You missed the Sorting, anyway," said Hermione, as Ron dived for a large chocolate gateau.

"Hat say anything interesting?" asked Harry, taking a piece of treacle tart.

"More of the same, really... advising us all to unite in the face enemies, you know."

"Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?"

"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast doesn't he? It can't be long now."

"Snape said Hagrid was late for the feast -"

"You've seen Snape? How come?" said Ron between frenzied mouthfuls of gateau.

"Bumped into him," said Harry evasively.

"Hagrid was only a few minutes late," said Hermione. "Look, he's waving at you, Harry."

Harry looked up at the staff table and grinned at Hagrid, who was indeed waving at him. Hagrid had never quite managed to comport himself with the dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere between Hagrid's elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was looking disapprovingly at this enthusiastic greeting.

Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was miming the shatterering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause.

"A thousand points from Slytherin." Bree muttered. Slytherin's house points were now in the negatives.

"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked.

"Different things from different people." Bree answered. "Wanted to know if I was a seer. I left before hegot to Harry."

"He wanted to know what really happened at the Ministry." said Harry.

"Him and everyone else here," sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "All wanting to know if you really are 'the Chosen One' -"

"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts," interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely connected head toward Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that he can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray his trust.'"

"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Ron observed.

"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," said Nearly Headless Nick in affronted tones, and he rose into the air and glided back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.

"What happened to his hand?" Hermione gasped, showing that she hadn't been paying attention.

She was not the only one who had not noticed until it was completely obvious. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now ... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you... "

"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to Hermione. "I thought he'd have cured it by now, though ... or Madam Pomfrey would've done."

"It looks as if it's died," said Hermione, with a nauseated expression. "But there are some injuries you can't cure... old curses... and there are poisons without antidotes..."

"... and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." Bree grinned.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise"

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn." Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table into shadow, "is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"Potions?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare Harry. "But you said -"

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction.

"But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts!" said Hermione.

"I thought he was!" said Harry.

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up his mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table.

"Well, there's one good thing," he said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."

"What do you mean?" asked Ron.

"That job's jinxed. No one's lasted more than a year... Quirrell actually died doing it... Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death... "

"Harry!" said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.

"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn't."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that you teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them-in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories.

"What did he mean about the castle's defenses being strengthened over the summer?" Neville asked Bree as they walked to the common room. "I didn't feel anything, did you?"

Bree frowned at poked at the wards. "There are a few new wards, but they're pretty weak in comparison to the old wards. It's kind of like they taped a knife to a battleship. He might have noticed that the old wards are active, or he thinks that the new ones are good enough." She explained.

"What about Malfoy? It feels like he has a piece of dark magic stuck to him." Neville said.

"Yeah, we're going have to keep an eye on that." Bree replied.

* * *

Ben Grimsley was having difficulty sleeping. He was going to resume teaching Bree in the morning. He had a very specific set of instructions. Get her to master her animagus form as soon as possible. Teach her how to fight, how to kill monsters and people that act like monsters, whether they be Death Eaters or muggle psychopaths, to run only when absolutely necessary. He was expected to turn Bree into something like Lisa. A leader, a murderer, and sometimes, on very, very bad days a monster capable of striking fear into the most ruthless of gangsters, in short, Lisa's heir.

It was very different from what he had been told to teach Alice during the brief time she had been his student. He had been told to teach her illusions, something she had been learning in America, but hadn't been taught at Hogwarts for a very long time. He had been expected to teach her how to hide, how to run away, and to fight only when absolutely necessary.

Quite the contrast, it came into being because of Lisa. She had seen the potential in her niece and had wanted to nurse it, but she felt guilty about taking an innocent little girl and turning her into something so much darker.

Alice had given Lisa an opportunity, an opportunity to keep a part of Bree innocent. Alice was the "what if" that everyone wonders about. Alice had been "born" a fully formed fourteen-year-old girl. She had been a fourteen-year-old Bree and even though she was slowly becoming she own person people who knew of her beginning had trouble seeing past the part of her that was Bree.

Lisa wanted Alice to be a more innocent version of Bree so that she could ease her own guilt, but Alice wasn't destined to become a more innocent Bree, and Ben knew it. Deep down Lisa knew it too. There could not be an innocent Bree, because Bree had never been innocent.

Way back when she had been a little girl exploring the amazing new world that was her backyard she had been infected by the psychic worm and it had started feeding her memories, making her think they were works of fiction. But they still showed her that monsters were real and that some of the biggest monsters in the world were human. When you grow up knowing that how can you possibly be innocent?

There would be no "innocent version of Bree." There would be Alice and there would be Bree and together they would be the stuff legends are made out of.

* * *

The next morning sixth year students were expected to turn in an application for N.E.W.T level classes with the heads of their houses.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first period Ancient Runes class without further ado. Neville took a little longer to sort out; his round face was anxious as Professor McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his O.W.L. results.

"Herbology, fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an 'Acceptable' really isn't good enough to continue to N.E.W.T. level. Just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."

Neville hung his head. Professor McGonagall peered at him through her square spectacles.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

Neville looked miserable and muttered something about "my grandmother wants."

"Hmph," snorted Professot McGonagall. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have-particularly after what happened at the Ministry."

Neville turned very pink and blinked confusedly; Professor McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.

"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T. class. I see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charm however-why not try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms?"

"My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option," mumbled Neville.

"Take Charms," said Professor McGonagall, "and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless." Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, Professor McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.

Professor McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination.

"He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes between them this year," said Professor McGonagall, a hint of disapproval in her voice; it was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination. "The sixth year is being taken by Professor Trelawney."

Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.

"So, Potter, Potter..." said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration ... all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven't you applied to continue with Potions? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?"

"It was, but you told me I had to get an 'Outstanding' in my O.W.L., Professor."

"And so you did when Professor Snape was teaching the subject. Professor Slughorn, however, is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students with 'Exceeds Expectations' at O.W.L. Do you wish to proceed with Potions?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I didn't buy the books or any ingredients or anything-"

"I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be able to lend you some," said Professor McGonagall. "Very well, Potter, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way-twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry, and the two of them left the table together. Bree was cleared for same classes. She checked her schedule. She there where three free periods marked on it, which really meant that she had three periods with Ben. Joy.

* * *

The first lesson with Ben hadn't been as bad as Bree had expected. She had spent the whole period studying feline anatomy because she needed to understand it if she wanted to become an animagus. The nose had to be flat, ears pointed and positioned on top of the head. The tail was an extension of the spine and required extra vertebrae.

Bree needed to know all of this in order to safely transition from Human to cat, even if it was a Cheshire Cat.

* * *

Bree met up with Harry and Ron on the way down to the the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.

"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously when they joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Shame," yawned Ron.

"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

The room was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

"Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" (he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony) "feel the Dementor's Kiss" (a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall) "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" (a bloody mass upon ground).

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said Parvati Patil in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

"... you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well-Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively (over in the corner, Malfoy sniggered), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some, "his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry, "lack."

Harry refused to drop his gaze, but glowered at Snape until Snape looked away.

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville's muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word, a feat that would surely have earned her twenty points for Gryffindor from any reasonable teacher, but which Snape ignored.

Bree hit Draco with a silent jelly-legs-jinx after spending a little bit of time playing her magic reserves like she would do when practicing bush magic. Wizards didn't really need wands or words; they were just crutches that made magic easier. In ancient times they had been introduced as learning tools, like training wheels on a bike, something meant to be removed once the old magic had been learned. Old magic was rooted in bush magic. Bush magic was defined by the connection to nature and the natural energy of the planet. Old magic was more about manipulating the energy in one's own reserves and was somewhat difficult to master, hence the learning tools that made it easier. The weak, the lazy, and the untalented clung to the easy way of doing magic, the weak way. Over time the ways of old magic got pushed aside as the easy way, the wands and words, took over.

And Bree had just taken off one of the training wheels managed to tap into the old ways of magic that made Merlin and the founders so powerful. The effect was immediate. Draco's legs weren't just wobbly, they were completely boneless. He had to be sent to the hospital wing to regrow his bones.

After Snape had ordered two Slytherins to take Draco the hospital wing, he just stared at Bree, so was everyone else in the classroom.

"Guess I have to pull it back a bit." Bree said sheepishly. Snape pulled out his flask and took a big gulp. He forgot to assign homework.

* * *

Harry was going to taking lessons from Dumbledore. He had gotten a note telling him that the first lesson would be on Saturday. Bree wasn't happy about this, but she could use it. Dumbledore thought he had Harry in his pocket and Bree had an advantage as long as he thought that.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole of break speculating on what Dumbledore would teach Harry. Ron thought it most likely to be spectacular jinxes and hexes of the type the Death Eaters would not know. Hermione said such things were illegal, and thought it much more likely that Dumbledore wanted to teach Harry advanced Defensive magic. After break, she went off to Arithmancy while Harry and Ron returned to the common room while Bree went off to see Ben in the Room of requirement where she stayed though lunch, the house elves having delivered sandwiches, and left when it was time for potions.

When she arrived in the corridor she saw that there were only a about dozen people progressing to N.E.W.T. level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required O.W.L. grade, but three Slytherins had made it through. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan.

"Harry," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Harry approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defense Against The Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old D.A. lags... And how are you, Ron-Hermione?"

Before they could say more than "fine," the dungeon door opened and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry, Bree, and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Ron, Bree, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The three Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Ernie on his own.

The Gryffindors chose the table nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting a vapor that smelled like gunpowder, smoke, and something like leather.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything-nor's Ron-we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see-"

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention... not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..."

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class and inflating his already bulging chest so that the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to burst off, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. It seemed to have plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's; Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too... Who can-?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

It was a slow-bubbling, mudlike substance.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one her... yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione's embarrassment.

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Slughorn beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, what's so impressive about that?" whispered Ron, who for some reason looked annoyed. "You are the best in the year-I'd've told him so if he'd asked me!"

Hermione smiled but made a "shushing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying. Ron looked slightly disgruntled.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room-oh yes," he said, nodding gravely at Nott, both who was smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love..."

"Like obsessive stalkers who kill the object of their attention in the mindset of "if I can't have it, no one can?" Bree asked.

"Yes, and some… other instances." Slughorn replied. Nott looked a bit pale.

"And now," Slughorn said, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said Ernie Macmillan, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a drop had spilled.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed ... at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said Terry Boot eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He gazed dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, the effect was good.

"And that," said Slughorn, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, taking a minuscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocket and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt."

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competition... sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only... and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!"

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible.

Everyone kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing; this was both an advantage and a disadvantage of Potions, that it was hard to keep your work private. Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the "smooth, black currant-colored liquid" mentioned as the ideal halfway stage, as did Bree's. Bree didn't looked as stressed as any of the other students, in fact, she didn't looked stressed at all.

"And time's... up!" called Slughorn after some time had passesd. "Stop stirring, please!"

Bree frowned, her potion was just as pale as Harry's, but did not have the desired clarity of water. Bree had seen the success that Harry had been having and had copied him.

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Bree were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron's cauldron. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod. Then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face. He glanced quickly at Bree's potion, before doing a double take, his jaw dropping in shock.

"It seems we have a tie." He said, stunned by this new development.

"Give it to Harry." Bree said.

"Are you sure?" Slughorn asked uncertainly.

"I make my own luck." Bree replied. She had only stuck around because she had wanted the Draught of living Death.

* * *

At dinner Harry explained that his potion book had notes with alternate instructions and that's why his potion had been the best.

Hermione's face became stonier with every word he uttered.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" he finished, aggravated by her expression.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly. "Bree didn't have that book and got the same result. She should have won."

"I copied what Harry was doing." Bree interjected.

"See! They only followed different instructions to ours," said Ron, "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off." He heaved a sigh. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written on. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but-"

"Hang on," said Ginny who had just joined them. "Did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

She looked alarmed and angry. Harry knew what was on her mind at once.

"It's nothing," he said reassuringly, lowering his voice. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled on."

"But you're doing what it says?"

"A lot of old books have notes in the margins." Bree stated.

"Ginny's got a point," said Hermione, perking up at once. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?"

"Hey!" said Harry indignantly, as she pulled his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and raised her wand.

"Specialis Revelio!" she said, rapping it smartly on the front cover. Nothing whatsoever happened. The book simply lay there, looking old and dirty and dog-eared.

"Finished?" said Harry irritably. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few backflips?"

"It seems all right," said Hermione, still staring at the book suspiciously. "I mean, it really does seem to be ... just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back," said Harry, snatching it off the table, but it slipped from his hand and landed open on the floor. Nobody else was looking. Harry bent low to retrieve the book.

* * *

Perception filters were great, just absolutely amazing. Bree has turned hers on as soon as she was sure everyone in the castle had gone to bed. She had two stops to make, first to the Dungeons for a little Veritaserum and a little Felix Felicis. Not enough for anyone to notice they were gone, but they were still effective amounts.

Her second stop was to the hospital wing where Draco was tossing and turning and groaning in pain. Bree made a few suspicious and creepy noises and Draco went still.

"Imagine you were afraid." Bree said softly. "Imagine you were a long way from home and in terrible pain. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, you looked up and saw the face of the Devil herself."

Bree pulled open the curtains around the Malfoy heir's bed. "Hello Draco!"

* * *

**The last scene is based on the "Hello Dalek" scene from Doctor Who. You can look it up on Youtube.**


	70. Year 6: Game Start

"Smith!" Draco hissed.

"That would be me." Bree replied. Draco tried to sit up.

"Oh, don't get up on my account." Bree chided. "Not that you can."

"What did you do to me!" Draco demanded.

"Oh hush now. There's no need to worry it's just a little low level restraint. Higher level and you wouldn't be able to talk, but it's not like a higher level is necessary, you're not very strong and you're distracted by pain." Bree answered.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Draco snarled.

"You, you, you, you, you. Why does it have to be about you? It's not. There's something clinging to you like a bad smell. I want to find out what it is, and here you are, alone in the hospital wing. How could I pass up such a perfect opportunity?" Bree questioned. "Now where is it?" she felt around with a detection ward. Draco tried to squirm uncomfortably.

"Yeah sorry about that, never used this one before, just activated it before coming down here. It's a bit of a strain, like carrying one more shopping bag than you should. The others are probably feeling it too. We should really get someone to help carry the load." Bree explained.

"Aha! There it is!" she exclaimed. She rolled up on of Draco's sleeves.

"Oh, that is a nasty piece of work. You should really moisturize more often. Of course that Dark Mark doesn't really help." Bree commented.

"So you're one of his sheep now?" she asked. Draco remained silent.

"Oh that's fine. Don't speak up; we have ways of making you talk." Bree stated before pulling out two vials. One was labeled.

"Now this," Bree began holding up the unlabeled vial, "Is Veritaserum, very effective. Makes the drinker tell the truth, problem with it is getting it into your mouth."

Bree held up the labeled vial. "This is sodium amytal. I suppose you could call it the muggle version of Veritaserum. Trouble is, I have to stab you with a needle." She pulled out a syringe with a needle.

"This needle in fact." She stuck the needle in the vial and drew out some of the liquid. "Injected into a vein it will circulate throughout your entire body. Of course there are side effects, and there is a chance I'll miss the vein and have to stab you repeatedly, and while I know the right dose for Veritaserum, I'm not sure how much sodium amytal I should give you, so I might just kill you. Not much of a loss, really. But it would cause quite a commotion and that would be inconviant."

Bree began poking Draco's arm. "Now I have to find a vein." She looked up Draco.

"You wouldn't happen to know what a vein feels like, would you?" Draco stared at her, a look of sheer terror on his face.

"I thought not, well, I've always wanted to give random stabbing a try, unless, you'd care to open your mouth for the Veritaserum?" Bree pressed, grinning, her teeth getting sharper. Draco opened his mouth.

"Good boy." Bree said as she carefully administered three drops of Veritaserum. Once that was done she put the vial away and then tossed the syringe and the sodium amythal over her shoulder. The vial shattered one the floor, the syringe didn't.

"Oh that's right. They don't make them out of glass anymore." Bree said. She retrieved the syringe, pushed the plunger and squirted the liquid into her mouth.

"Ah, that's some good H2O. Also known as water, for those of us that don't speak science." She stated, grinning as her eyes became catlike. "It's already present in your body. Air bubble, that's what you have to watch for." She pulled the plunger back, filling the syringe with air.

"Circulatory system is a closed system. If you get a big enough bubble inside it and the bubble reaches the heart you go into cardiac arrest. Cheap way to kill someone, doesn't show up in toxicology report, but a bit suspicious in someone with no history of heart troubles." Bree explained. "Oh but I'm rambling, let's get on to the questions."

"What are you?" Draco blurted out. Bree glared.

"I ask the questions. Not you." She stated coldly.

"Now," she began, a grin sliding back onto her face, "have you ever kissed a girl? You're mother doesn't count."

"No." Draco answered.

"Do you think your father is proud of you?"

"No."

"That's a bit sad. Are you a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"Did Voldemort give you a mission?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"Kill Dumbledore."

Bree eyes went wide, her grin changed from predatory to ecstatic. "You?" she laughed. "He wants you to kill Dumbledore?"

"Yes." Draco replied, having no choice but to answer.

"Oh that's rich, that's really rich!" Bree exclaim, her eyes full of mirth. "Mommy's little boy, riding on Daddy's coattails, and they want to turn him into a murderer?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you expect me to turn you in?"

"Yes."

"Oh, but that wouldn't be fun at all. You're the other player in this year's game!" Bree exclaimed. "Do you know who it was last year?"

"No."

"Umbridge. Did you hear about her death?"

"Yes."

"Of course you did, happened right in the Ministry. She died on my birthday too, not long after last year's game ended and she stopped being fun and just became a nuisance. But you'll keep the game fun for me, right?"

"Yes."

"Oh, this game will be great, watching you try and fail, and if you succeed… well, that's one less problem for me. Of course since it is a game, there will be a few rules for you to follow and a few penalties if you break them. Number One: You're not allowed to tell anyone about what has transpired here this evening, that's a great word, transpired. The penalty for breaking rule one is… well your mother will find that out." Bree smirked at Draco.

"She's not safe you know, even if she thinks she is she's not, after all, Rookwood thought he was safe, that didn't make it true. Rule Number Two: You hurt a student during your efforts to kill old Dumbles and we will have a problem. Rule Number Three:" Bree got very close to Draco and spoke in a soft voice.

"If anyone I care about gets hurt because of your efforts to kill Dumbledore and your life will became eternal suffering." She pulled away from Draco.

"One last question and then I'll go, are you afraid of me?"

"Yes."

Bree moved to leave, her eyes and teeth becoming more human. She paused for a moment at the curtain.

"Draco, last year we booth met with the Heads of our Houses to plan out what we wanted to become in the future. I told McGonagall that I had options that didn't really require N.E.W.T level coursework. But when I was talking to her I overlooked one option, one that doesn't require magic but it certainly wouldn't hurt." she said, not turning around.

"I recently decided what I want to become, it was always there; practically staring me in the face until finally realized it. I am going to become someone whose enemies would rather run from than face the wrath of. Someone who no one would dare anger for fear of retribution, because nothing angers me more than someone hurting someone I care about, so congratulations Draco, you are the first of a long line." And with that, Bree left.

* * *

The next day Harry revealed that he found a signature in the back of his potion book. "Property of the Half Blood Prince" it read.

For or the rest of the week's Potions lessons Harry continued to follow the Half-Blood Prince's instructions wherever they deviated from Libatius Borage's, and Bree continued to copy Harry, with the result that by their fourth lesson Slughorn was raving about Harry's abilities, saying that he had rarely taught anyone so talented. Neither Ron nor Hermione was delighted by this. Although Harry had offered to share his book with both of them, Ron had more difficulty deciphering the handwriting than Harry did, and could not keep asking Harry to read aloud or it might look suspicious. Hermione, meanwhile, was resolutely plowing on with what she called the "official" instructions, but becoming increasingly bad-tempered as they yielded poorer results than the Prince's.

Hermione was kind of stupid that way. She was so by the book that it got in the way of progress. Imagine if everyone in the entire history of the human race stuck to what they had learned and refused to question, refused to find a better way of doing things. We would never have gotten anywhere. Bree stopped trying to point this out to Hermione, it never got anywhere.

Harry wondered vaguely who the Half-Blood Prince had been. Although the amount of homework they had been given prevented him from reading the whole of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, he had skimmed through it sufficiently to see that there was barely a page on which the Prince had not made additional notes, not all of them concerned with potion-making. Here and there were directions for what looked like spells that the Prince had made up himself.

"Or herself," said Hermione irritably, overhearing Harry pointing some of these out to Ron in the common room on Saturday evening. "It might have been a girl. I think the handwriting looks more like a girl's than a boy's."

"The Half-Blood Prince, he was called," Harry said. "How many girls have been princes?"

"Could be a family name." Bree pointed out.

"Who do you know who has got the last name Prince?" Ron asked.

"Robert Prince. Broadway composer, also jazz, back in its heyday." Bree replied.

"How do you know that?" Harry inquired.

"Same way I know that Snouted Cobra venom can kill you in thirty minutes." Bree answered.

"And how's that?" Ron question.

"Well its venom is like a paralytic so your muscles shut down, including the ones that control breathing, so you suffocate." Bree answered before walking out.

"That's not what I was asking!" Ron called after her.

Bree activated her perception filter and waited for Harry to come out of the common room. When he did, she followed him.

Harry proceeded through deserted corridors, though he had to step hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.

"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured, as she passed the place where Harry crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner -"

She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry's statue.

"Well, that can't be right," she said, annoyed, and she reshuffled vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her. Harry waited until he was quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stood against the wall.

"Acid Pops," said Harry, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which Harry stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's Office.

Harry knocked.

"Come in," said Dumbledore s voice.

"Good evening, sir," said Harry, walking into the Headmaster's office. Bree followed unseen.

"Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I hope you've had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes, thanks, sir," said Harry.

The circular office looked just as it always did; the delicate silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, puffing smoke and whirring; portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses dozed in their frames, and Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix, Fawkes, stood on his perch behind the door, watching Harry with bright interest.

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore, in a businesslike voice. "You have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these-for want of a better word - lessons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I have decided that it is time, now that you know what prompted Lord Voldemort to try and kill you fifteen years ago, for you to be given certain information." There was a pause.

"You said, at the end of last term, you were going to tell me everything," said Harry. It was hard to keep a note of accusation from his voice. "Sir," he added.

"And so I did," said Dumbledore placidly. "I told you everything I know. From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" said Harry.

"Naturally I do, but as I have already proven to you, I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being - forgive me-rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

Bree rolled her eyes.

"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "does what you're going to tell me have anything to do with the prophecy? Will it help me... survive?"

"It has a very great deal to do with the prophecy," said Dumbledore, as casually as if Harry had asked him about the next day's weather, "and I certainly hope that it will help you to survive."

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Harry, who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a familiar shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim. He placed the Pensieve on the desk in front of Harry.

"You look worried."

Harry had indeed been eyeing the Pensieve with some apprehension.

"This time, you enter the Pensieve with me... and, even more unusually, with permission."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"For a trip down Bob Ogden's memory lane," said Dumbledore, pulling from his pocket a crystal bottle containing a swirling silvery-white substance.

"Who was Bob Ogden?"

"He was employed by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Dumbledore. "He died some time ago, but not before I had tracked him down and persuaded him to confide these recollections to me. We are about to accompany him on a visit he made in the course of his duties. If you will stand, Harry ..."

But Dumbledore was having difficulty pulling out the stopper of the crystal bottle: his injured hand seemed stiff and painful.

"Shall -shall I, sir?"

"No matter, Harry -"

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bottle and the cork flew out.

"Sir-how did you injure your hand?" Harry asked again, looking at the blackened fingers with a mixture of revulsion and pity.

"Now is not the moment for that story, Harry. Not yet. We have an appointment with Bob Ogden."

Dumbledore tipped the silvery contents of the bottle into the Pensieve, where they swirled and shimmered, neither liquid nor gas. "After you," said Dumbledore, gesturing toward the bowl.

Harry disappeared into the pensive, followed by Dumbledore, leaving Bree alone in the office. She didn't follow, despite her curiosity. She wasn't sure if the perception filter would hold up if she did. Instead she sat down at Dumbledore's desk and wrote a note.

_If you're reading this, congratulations, you're not dead yet, though you are approaching the end of your life. But that's fine. You have lived a very long time and have very little to show for it, unless you count your mistakes and the actions you took credit for._

_As a good Doctor once said "a longer life isn't always a better one. In the end, you just get tired; tired of the struggle, tired of losing everyone that matters to you, tired of watching everything you love turn to dust. If you live long enough the only certainty left is that you'll end up alone." Others may mourn your death. I will rejoice in it._

She left the note folded on Dumbledore's desk and then she wandered around the room, examining whatever object caught her eye until Harry and Dumbledore returned. She watched as they discussed what they had seen in the penseive. She noted several names to look into later.

There was an interesting little exchange as Harry turned to leave.

"Sir," said Harry, staring at it. "That ring-"

"Yes?" said Dumbledore.

"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night."

"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.

"But isn't it... sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"

Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."

"But how come... have you always had it?"

"No, I acquired it very recently," said Dumbledore. "A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."

"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry."

Harry hesitated. Dumbledore was smiling.

"Sir, how exactly-?"

"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sir."

* * *

"So Voldemort came from the Gaunt line, the last remnant of the Slytherin line. They were big on blood purity and each generation became weaker and weaker. Voldemort's mother was practically a squib, then she tricks a muggle and has a half-blood baby that becomes the leader of a fanatic blood purity movement. Now that, my friends, is irony… or stupidity." Bree told Luna and Neville.

"It is rather strange, isn't it?" Luna commented.

"But what's the point of knowing all this?" Neville asked.

"I have no idea, but Dumbledore does seem to be going somewhere with this, but of course since this is Dumbledore, he has to lead us over the hill and around the bend before he finally gets to the point."

"So you're going to keep spying on him then?" Neville questioned.

"Yes." Bree replied.

"But why, Harry is telling Sirius everything."

"Because I don't trust Dumbledore." Bree replied. "And now onto the next order of business, where are we going to find a fourth?"

"Not with the Slytherins. We can't trust them." Neville answered.

"I don't think there are any students with Slytherin qualities that we can trust." Luna stated.

Bree frowned. "The House of Slytherin has become known for dark magic over the years. It's becoming a problem. Without a fourth we won't be able to restore Hogwarts to full power, but any of the students that might fit can't be…" Bree stopped mid-sentence, a look of sudden realization on her face.

"What is it?" Neville asked.

"I can't believe it I didn't think of it before." Bree stated. "How could I possibly be that stupid!"

"What are you talking about!" Neville exclaimed.

"Who said it had to be a Slytherin _student_?" Bree replied. "Ben was in Slytherin."

* * *

Fortunately, tying Ben to the Slytherin keystone didn't require a trip down to the Chamber of Secrets. Old Salazar had a room that was a little easier to access, which made sense; it would be rather tiring to trek all the way down to the chamber anytime you wanted to be alone. The Slytherin keystone looked like a snake strangling a rather sickly lion.

"Oh, don't act like you haven't seen Godric's." the portrait of Slytherin huffed in response to Bree's incredulous stare.

* * *

"Ooo, Hogwarts is just teeming with power now! All the wards are fully active! I feel giddy!" Bree exclaimed.

"So what do you plan to do now?" Ben asked.

"Now? I'm going to teach the first years about the muggle country "Imaginationland" and its capital city "LSD." Bree replied before skipping off.

"Sometimes I worry about that girl." Ben told Luna and Neville.

* * *

549. Not allowed to tell first years about the muggle country "Imaginationland" and its capital city "LSD."

* * *

As Hermione had predicted, the sixth-years' free periods were not the hours of blissful relaxation Ron had anticipated, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before. Harry barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said to them these days; even Hermione had had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice. Incredibly, and to Hermione's increasing resentment, Harry's best subject had suddenly become Potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince.

Non-verbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in Charms and Transfiguration too. Bree's non-verbal spells were frequently overpowered, much to the consternation of her classmates who could be found in the common room or at mealtimes purple in the face and straining as though they had overdosed on U-No-Poo when they were really struggling to make spells work without saying incantations aloud.

Outside into the greenhouses, they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, but at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind.

Hagrid had stopped coming to mealtimes which worried Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had not had time to go talk to him. They planned to go visit him after Gryffindor Quidditch tryouts the following Saturday.

Bree didn't go to Quidditch tryouts or visit Hagrid afterwards. She was busy. You see, some uppity Slytherin first years, the little pure-blood brats that they were, had made the mistake of calling Bree a mud-blood.

Bree spent the day throwing first years into the lake, not that there were that many of them, it's just that they kept climbing back out. Eventually she was stopped after Harry, Ron, and Hermione noticed the commotion after they visited Hagrid's hut.

"What are you doing!" Hermione screeched.

"Sacrificing first years in order to appease the mighty Kraken." Bree answered as she tossed a sopping wet Slytherin.

"They annoyed me and I'm hoping if I feed it enough of the little brats it will introduce to Davy Jones." She explained.

"The squid does not eat people!" Hermione shouted as she rounded up the three unfortunate Slytherins.

"It ate Captain Jack Sparrow, and anyway, started with five first years, not three." Bree stated.

A quick head count revealed that Bree had started with the same amount of first years she had ended with and no one had been eaten by the squid.

"Why do you hate the first years so much?" an exasperated Hermione asked.

"No, no, no, Hermione!" Bree exclaimed. "I love first year. They're like slinkys!"

"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned.

"Completely useless, but fun to watch fall down the stairs." Bree replied. "They're only there for my amusement." Bree was given detention.

* * *

250. First years are not "like slinkys."

257. Not allowed to throw first years into the lake in order "To appease the mighty Kraken."

- not even if they annoy me.

- the squid is not a Kraken.

- the squid can't introduce me to Davy Jones.

- the squid did not eat Captain Jack Sparrow.

383. The first years are not there for my amusement.

* * *

Bree found Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Slughorn outside of the Great Hall before dinner that evening.

"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly, "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin-I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries-and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger and Miss Smith will favor me by coming too."

Slughorn made Hermione and Bree a little bow as he finished speaking. It was as though Ron was not present; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

"I can't come, Professor,"Bree said brightly. "I've got a detention with Professor Snape."

"Oh dear!" said Slughorn, his face falling comically. "Dear, dear, I was counting on you! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation. I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you all later!"

Of course Slughorn was unable to get Snape to change his mind and Bree reported to the Snape's office sometime after dinner.

"So what's my punishment for today?" Bree asked, grinning. Snape seemed to regret not letting Bree go to Slughorn's party, but he hadn't wanted Slughorn to think that he could get special treatment.

"Go sit in the corner and stare at the wall." Snape replied. Bree frowned.

"That's boring." She complained, but she complied anyway and stared at the without blinking.

"_She's not human. She can't possibly be human._" Snape thought as he began to grade papers. As soon as he wasn't looking Bree blinked.


	71. Year 6: Draco Malfoy and the Broken Rule

Where was Dumbledore, and what was he doing? He rarely appeared at meals anymore, and the Hogwarts wards told Bree that the blasted old coot was leaving the school for days a time. Had Dumbledore forgotten the lessons he was supposed to be giving Harry? Dumbledore had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy, Bree had been rather curious about the whole thing and then she was disappointed.

Bree told Rita about Dumbledore's absences, and she spun it into a story about negligence and speculated the Dumbledore was making secret trips to St. Mungo's.

Bree wasn't struggling under the load of homework like the other students were, even though she had less free time to do the work. Ben was helping her get it all done, now some people, Hermione for example, may call that cheating but Ben just called it getting the distractions out of the way so they could focus on the important things and the other teachers wouldn't complain.

Bree had made more progress with her animagus transformation since she had Ben's help. He said that if she kept it up she might have it down sometime the next year. Ben had started getting Bree used to switching her weapons out quickly and using two weapons at the same time. He was pushing Bree as hard as she could go without breaking. She needed to develop certain skills in a very short amount of time. The battles were escalating, people were dying and there was no telling how long it would be until Bree would be forced onto the front lines.

* * *

The first Hogsmeade weekend came halfway through October. Bree woke up the morning of the trip to find wind and sleet pounding the windows.

Harry had found more than just notes about potions scribbled in the Half Blood Prince's book, he had found imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins, which, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, the Prince had invented himself.

Harry had already attempted a few of the Prince's self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (he had tried this on Crabbe in the corridor, with very entertaining results); a jinx that glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which he had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Argus Filch); and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard. The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Hermione, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk at all if Harry had used the Muffliato spell on anyone in the vicinity.

Harry had tried out a new spell on this particular morning.

At breakfast Ron talked about how he had woken up dangling by one ankle.

"... and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" Ron grinned, helping himself to sausages.

Hermione had not cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked.

Harry frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well... yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" said Harry, preferring not to answer the rest of the question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic approved," said Hermione. "And also," she added, as Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, "because I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" said Hermione. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

"Fred and George," said Ron, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing. And, er-"

"My dad," said Harry. He had only just remembered.

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together.

"My dad used this spell," said Harry. "I-Lupin told me."

This last part was not true; in fact, Harry had seen his father use the spell on Snape, but he had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve.

"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," said Hermione, "but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

"They weren't hanging upside down by their ankles. For all we know it could have been a basic levitation charm."

"… Well it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I don't see where you get that from," said Harry heatedly. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'half-blood,' would he?"

"The Death Eaters can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left," said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggle-borns they hate, they'd be quite happy to let you and Ron join up."

"There is no way they'd let me be a Death Eater!" said Ron indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork he was now brandishing at Hermione and hitting Ernie Macmillan on the head. "My whole family are blood traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-borns to Death Eaters!"

"And they'd love to have me," said Harry sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

This made Ron laugh; even Hermione gave a grudging smile, and a distraction arrived in the shape of Ginny.

"Hey, Harry, I'm supposed to give you this."

It was a scroll of parchment with Harry's name written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing.

"Thanks, Ginny... It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. "Monday evening!" He felt suddenly light and happy. "Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?" he asked.

"I'm going with Dean-might see you there," she replied, waving at them as she left.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with a Secrecy Sensor.

Bree slunk past it with her perception filter. The walk into Hogsmeade was not enjoyable. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. When she finally reached Hogsmeade she saw that Zonko's Joke Shop had been boarded up.

She made her way to the Three Broomsticks where she met George. They got a booth and ordered drinks. They talked for a while, George recalled with horror the moment that his mother had confronted him about dating Bree. After some time had passed, Katie Bell walked by. George was eager to talk to her about the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but she muttered something about having to take a package to someone at Hogwarts.

"That was strange." George said as Katie left the Three Broomsticks, followed by her friend Leanne.

"Yeah." Bree replied. "Something's not right. Let's go." She got up and walked out the door, George right behind her. They quickly caught up to Katie and Leanne. Leanne was trying to get Katie to stop and tell her what was going on. Bree and George joined her. Katie wouldn't tell them who the package was for, who had given it to her, or why it was so important. They argued that it was a bad idea to transport unknown objects for mysterious persons. Out of the corner of her eye Bree saw three figures approaching.

"It's got nothing to do with any of you!" Katie exclaimed.

Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding; Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie... Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Bree, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed forward to help, but even as they grabbed Katie's legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writhing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.

Harry looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

"Stay there!" he shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

He began to sprint toward the school. He was soon back with help.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "I don't know what -"

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Hermione hurried over to Katie's wailing friend and put an arm around her.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?"

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or-?"

"It was when that package tore," sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but George seized his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't touch it! You saw what happened to Katie!"

Harry crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"I've seen that before," he said, staring at the thing. "It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it." He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Katie get hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realize!"

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her?"

"No." Bree answered.

"She wouldn't say who it was for either, just that she had to get it up to the castle." Georgecontiuned.

"We'd better get up to school," said Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. "We'll be able to find out how she is. Come on..."

Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron's gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey," he said

As they followed Hermione and Leanne up the road, Harry was thinking furiously. They had just entered the grounds when he spoke, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer.

"Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad. This is what he was buying that day when we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!"

"Draco hasn't left the castle all day." Bree told him.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do, okay!"

"McGonagall!" said Ron warningly.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

"Hagrid says you five saw what happened to Katie Bell-upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's the thing she touched," said Harry.

"Good Lord," said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

They followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face them. "Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, and how Katie had seemed a little odd. Bree and George took over the storytelling when it became apparent that Leanne would be unable to continue.

"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Bree, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up in the air," said Harry, "and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?"

Bree stared at him. Dumbledore wasn't even in the castle.

"The Headmaster is away until Monday, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

"Away?" Harry repeated angrily."Yes, Potter, away!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

For a split second, Harry hesitated. Professor McGonagall did not invite confidences; Dumbledore, though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild. This was a life-and-death matter, though, and no moment to worry about being laughed at.

"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor."

Bree made an irritated sound. "Draco hasn't left the castle all day." She stated.

"Quite right." McGonagall agreed. "He was doing detention with me. He has now failed to complete his Transfiguration homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Potter," she said as she marched past them, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. They had no choice but to file past her without another word.

* * *

It was late at night, everyone had gone to bed, except for Bree who was stalking the halls. Hogwarts was angry. One of her students had been hurt! Bree entered an empty classroom. Draco was lying of the floor unconscious on the floor.

"Wake up." Bree hissed, kicking him in the side. He woke up with a jolt.

"Smith! How? I was in bed!" he exclaimed.

"Yes you were, now you're not." Bree stated coldly.

"But how did you" Draco started to ask, but Bree cut him off.

"It's similar to how I forced Umbridge out of the school last year." She explained. "Now you're going to tell me how you got the necklace to Katie."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Draco replied nervously.

"Do I have to get the Veritaserum out again Draco? Do I?" Bree asked. "Because we both know you're lying. You broke a rule Draco and you're only chance of getting any sort of mercy is by telling me how you did it. So tell the truth now, before I decide to go straight to the penalty phase. You won't like the penalty phase." She said with a menacing grin.

Draco was hesitant. "I used the Imperius curse on Madam Rosemerta and told her to give the necklace to someone in Gryffindor." he finally said.

"Because Gryffindor is Dumbledore's favorite house?" Bree asked.

"Yeah." Draco muttered.

"You're an idiot. That is the lamest assassination attempt I have ever heard of." Bree stated. "Seriously, the necklace never would have made it into the castle. Any cursed item would have been picked up by Flich's secrecy sensor."

"How else am I going to kill Dumbledore?" Draco snapped.

"Are you really that uncreative?" Bree asked incredulously. "There are a number of ways to die. Shooting, stabbing, hit by a car, trampled by horses, drowning, fire, getting bit by something venomous. There are so many kinds of venom too, they can paralyze you so badly that you can't even breathe, they can dissolve your flesh, or make you bleed out from the inside."

Bree was grinning, her voice was dark and all Draco could do was stare at sharp teeth and blue catlike eyes.

"Poisons!" Bree exclaimed. "Strychnine, arsenic, death cap mushrooms, potassium chloride, and, my favorite because it's what killed Umbridge, puffer fish poison, otherwise known as Tetrodotoxin."

"But Umbridge died of some sort of medical event." Draco protest weakly.

"Oh you poor fool." Bree responded, laughing. "The poison is what induced the "medical event." Those idiots never even checked for any "muggle poison." Just because it's muggle doesn't mean it can't kill you. Human biology is universally the same. What kills a muggle can just as easily kill a wizard, you just have to decide."

Bree sighed. "Maybe I should just end the game right here if you're going to be boring and uncreative." She said.

"No!" Draco exclaimed. "I can do better! I can be interesting and creative!"

"But you were so sloppy on your first try that you broke a rule." Bree pointed out. "If you're going to continue doing shoddy work…" she trailed off.

"I'll do better. No one else will get hurt, please don't end the game!" Draco pleaded desperately. Bree stared at him and thought it over for one long agonizing moment.

"Alright." She finally said, grinning. "If you're really so eager to continue playing I guess I'll keep the game going."

Draco was relieved.

"But," Bree began, Draco's apprehension returned. "Since you've already hurt someone I think I need to add another rule."

She made a show of thinking it over.

"Yes, I think that's exactly what I'll do. Rule number four: If anyone other the Dumbledore dies because of you, then you die too." She said cheerily.

Bree left the classroom. Draco left a minute or so later looking up and down the hall. Bree had apparently disappeared. Bree really loved using her perception filter.

* * *

Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Bree, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.

"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course," said Harry to Ron and Hermione, who continued their new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentioned his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory. Harry was right of course, but Bree didn't mention it, that would ruin the game.

Harry had told Sirius his theory and Sirius told Lisa. Lisa already knew of course. Bree had reported the discovery of Draco's Dark Mark to her.

By Monday evening there was still no sign of Dumbledore. Bree followed Harry when he went to Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter.

There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired; his hand was as black and burned as ever, but he smiled when he gestured to Harry to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I believe you witnessed Katie's accident."

"Yes, sir. How is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin; there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse -"

"Why him?" asked Harry quickly. "Why not Madam Pomfrey?"

"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day."

"Yes, thank you, Phineas," said Dumbledore quellingly. "Professor Snape knows much more about the Dark Arts than Madam Pomfrey, Harry. Anyway, the St. Mungo's staff are sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, disregarding a strong feeling that he might be pushing his luck, a feeling apparently shared by Phineas Nigellus, who hissed softly.

"I would rather not say just now," saido Dumbledore. "However, I shall tell you in due course."

"You will?" said Harry, startled.

"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.

"Professor," said Harry, after a short pause, "did Professor McGonagall tell you what I told her after Katie got hurt? About Draco Malfoy?"

"She told me of your suspicions, yes," said Dumbledore.

"And do you-?"

"I shall take all appropriate measures to investigate anyone who might have had a hand in Katie's accident," said Dumbledore. "But what concerns me now, Harry, is our lesson."

Harry felt slightly resentful at this: if their lessons were so very important, why had there been such a long gap between the first and second? However, he said no more about Draco Malfoy, but watched as Dumbledore poured the fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along... going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Harry indignantly.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic!" said Harry impatiently. "She could have got food and everything for herself by magic, couldn't she?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief-I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right-that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her son?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

"No," said Harry quickly, "but she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother -"

"Your mother had a choice too," said Dumbledore gently. "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. And now, if you will stand ..."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, as Dumbledore joined him at the front of the desk.

"This time," said Dumbledore, "we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry ..."

And they disappeared into the Pensieve again.

Bree sat down rifled around Dumbledore's desk. Surprisingly she found a note Dumbledore had left for her. Well not so much her as it for whoever had left the note on his desk.

_If you're reading this then I assume you have returned to leave me another note. I must say that this Doctor of yours is very wise. My life has been longer than most, and I fear that such a long life has allowed me to make more mistakes than most. I swear that I had the best of intentions, everything I have done I did for the Greater Good._

_You are correct in your assumption that my life is nearing its end. I feel that I do not have much time before I move on to the next great adventure. I accept that, but I must make sure that the next generation is prepared before I depart._

Bree stared at the note for a moment. The Greater Good? What a lame excuse. She thought for a moment before writing a response.

_I see now why it is that you are so alone. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and you've sacrificed everything for the sake of your "Greater Good." When you sacrifice everything you are left with nothing. But it's not just sacrifice, its stupidity. You send the members of your Order out to fight without giving them any sort of training. Is it any wonder that they die? Your hands are coated with the blood of those who died while following your orders._

_If you truly accept your impending death then why don't you just die? You are doing nothing to prepare the next generation, unless you mean preparing Harry to fulfill that inane prophecy of Trelawney's. Such things are subject to interpretation and highly unreliable. The next generation does not need your guidance. We are prepared to function without you. I am prepared to do what is necessary and I will not sacrifice the innocent for my cause._

_The wizarding world is convinced that Harry is the "Chosen One" who will defeat the Dark Lord. More than that, they want him to be the "Chosen One." They want him to strike down Voldemort so that they don't have to rise up and risk their own lives. You have made them weak. They expect all problems to be solved for them while they wallow in their own fear, doing nothing for themselves. Die. Make them stand up for themselves._

She left the note on Dumbledore's desk and waited. It wasn't long before Harry and Dumbledore reappeared.

"Sit down," said Dumbledore, landing beside Harry.

Harry obeyed.

"He believed it much quicker than I did-I mean, when you told him he was a wizard," said Harry. "I didn't believe Hagrid at first, when he told me."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was-to use his word-'special,'" said Dumbledore.

"Did you know-then?" asked Harry.

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and-most interestingly and ominously of all-he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards: he was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive... I can make them hurt if I want to..."

"And he was a Parselmouth," interjected Harry.

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

"And lastly... I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry-the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, his eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Harry?" said Dumbledore, for Harry had come to a halt.

"The ring's gone," said Harry, looking around. "But I thought I you might have the mouth organ or something."

Dumbledore beamed at him, peering over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

"Very astute, Harry, but the mouth organ was only ever a mouth organ."

And on that enigmatic note he waved to Harry, who understood himself to be dismissed. Bree moved to follow him. She paused and looked back at Dumbledore. He was picking up the note she had left.

* * *

**I'm currently in the process of moving, so I don't have a lot of time to write. Sorry about any delays.**


	72. Year 6: Wedding Party Not in that Order

**Went into a Verizon shop looking for a simple phone for making calls and texting, walked out with a free iphone 4. Everyone wants that new iphone so apparently to get rid of the old ones they're just giving that away.**

* * *

"So the Dark Lord was an egomaniac. We already knew that." Neville stated after Bree had reported everything she had seen the day before.

"But Dumbledore made it seem that his trophy collecting is of particular importance." Bree replied.

"Maybe he has collected something dangerous." Luna suggested airily.

"You mean like some kind of dark artifact?" Ben asked.

"Well that would fit his M.O." Bree answered.

"So if it is a dark artifact why can't Dumbledore just come out and say what it is?" Neville questioned. Bree stared at him.

"Because he's Dumbledore, of course." she said.

* * *

The Gryffindor Quidditch team's opening match against Slytherin was looming and Katie Bell was still in St. Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving, which meant that the promising Gryffindor team Harry had been training so carefully since September was one Chaser short.

He asked Dean to replace her.

Malfoy didn't show up for the game and a replacement was sent onto the field to play instead. That was surprising, and not true. Bree found him in the Room of Requirement. The room looked like it was filled with the inventory of several junk shops.

"And what do we have here?" Bree asked from right behind Draco as she deactivated her perception filter. Draco, who had been doing something to a dusty cabinet, whirled around.

"Don't do that!" he shouted. He actually did look a bit sick. A part of Bree's mind decided it was stress induced and started going over the negative health effects the strain could put on Draco. She brushed it off quickly.

"But it's so much fun!" she exclaimed. "You should have seen the look on your face!"

"Why are you here?" Draco growled.

"You're not the match, and you're obviously not sick, so why skip out?" Bree inquired. "It's not like you to pass up a chance to show up Harry... Not that you ever could."

"I'm busy."

"With what?"

"You know what!"

Bree smirked. "Is that anything like you know who?" she asked. Draco glared.

"Alright, alright, I get it." Bree said defensively. "Just because you're plotting to kill someone doesn't mean you can't have fun every once and awhile."

"I need to use every possible moment to work." Draco replied. "That hex you put on me isn't helping."

Bree blinked in confusion. "What hex?" she asked.

"Like you don't know!" Draco yelled. "I have to wrestle with the doors to get them open, the showers are always ice cold, and the trick steps on the stairs keep changing!"

"Oh." Bree responded. "That's not me, the castle just hates you."

"The castle hates me." Draco repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief.

Bree nodded. "You hurt one of her students, nearly killed her. You're lucky that minor inconveniences is all your all getting." She explained.

Draco stared at her. "The castle is a building and isn't capable of feeling any kind of emotion." He said as if he were speaking to particularly slow child.

Bree shrugged. "Whatever helps you sleep and night, but really, this would a lot easier on you if you were a competent assassin. A guy wearing a bear suit while wielding an axe could do better than you. A guy wearing a bear suit while wielding an axe _has_ done better than you." She stated.

"What?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Swiss preacher, Jorg Jenatsch, look it up." Bree said.

Draco stared for a long moment. "You're bizarre." He finally said.

"And you're uptight. You should let loose and have fun." Bree stated.

"I'm trying to kill someone, that's not something you can have fun with." Draco replied dryly.

"Sure you can!" Bree exclaimed. "You have to be creative. Just think of it as a game."

"Most people value human life more than you do." Draco said.

"You need to get rid of that. You're a Death Eater. You're not supposed to care about human life. You're not supposed to hesitate. You're supposed to do what you're told with no regret."

"How can you think it's that simple? I've never killed anything before in my life! Maybe a lunatic like you can find it easy, but I… I…" Draco trailed off. Bree stared.

"It depends on what you mean by easy. If know what you're doing of mechanics of it are really quite simple. Just inflict the right amount of damage to a vital area or administer a poison correctly and you're good. Humans are very vulnerable, if you think about it." Bree said quietly.

"But if you're talking about the emotional toll of talking the life of another human being… I picked the poison that killed Umbridge. I am guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, but I wasn't there. I found out later that she had died. I didn't give her the poison. I didn't watch her die. I was very detached from the whole thing." Bree hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"The only advice I can give you is to use an impersonal method, something that works but doesn't make you watch. Don't think about it, maybe use some kind of coping mechanism, and remember, it's only a game."

Line line line

Gryffindor had won the match against Slytherin. The party was missing something, namely the twins who would always liven things up. Bree had never been to a Gryffindor party were Fred and George weren't present. She had also never been to a party where Ron had tried to eat Lavender Brown, face first, but that's what was happening in a corner of the room where everyone could see him.

"Fred and George are going to love mocking him." Bree commented to herself.

The party was going smoothly, until Ron and Lavender left to find someplace more private. Ron came back bloody and covered in scratches. Hermione had attacked him with a flock of small birds.

"Any reason you attacked Ron, or were you just feeling spiteful?" Bree asked after she had found Hermione in their shared dorm.

"He was only snogging Lavender because he heard that I had snogged Krum." Hermione complained.

"Uh-huh." Bree said.

"He was flaunting it in front of everyone just to make me jealous!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And that justifies assaulting him with conjured birds?" Bree asked incredulously. "Wait, don't answer that. Obviously they influx of hormones has addled your brain… Ah hormones, effects may include mood swings, poor, irrational, and generally impulsive decision making, rebelling against authority,"

"This doesn't remind you of anyone?" Hermione interrupted.

"And murder." Bree finished, ignoring Hermione.

"Murder?" Hermione questioned incredulously.

"Because they find their parents too restrictive, because they want money, because they feel like it, or because they're jealous. Sure, background has a lot to do with it, but there are cases where there is no rational explanation." Bree smirked. "If something happens to Lavender you'll be the first one I suspect."

"I would never kill anyone!" Hermione protested.

Bree shrugged. "If you say so." She said.

* * *

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already singlehandedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees to the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors. Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry went past, which caused blockages in the corridors.

They all wanted Harry to ask them to accompany him to a Christmas party that Slughorn had planned around Harry's and Bree's (mostly Harry's) so that they would actually show up to one of his parties. Bree had been avoiding them by saying she had lessons with Ben.

"There's a hole in the world like a Great Black pit and the vermin of the world inhabit it and its morals aren't worth what a pig could spit and it goes by the name of London. At the hole sit a privileged few, making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo, turning beauty into filth and greed!"

"Can't you sing something else?" Neville asked tiredly. Bree thought for a moment. She grinned.

"Seems an awful waste... Such a nice, plump frame what's 'is name has... Had... Has. Nor can it be traced... Bus'ness needs a lift, Debts to be erased...Think of it as thrift, As a gift, if you get my drift. Seems an awful waste... I mean, with the price of meat what it is, when you get it, if you get it... Ah!" Bree sang.

"Good, you got it! Take, for instance, Mrs. Mooney and her pie shop! Bus'ness never better using only pussycats and toast! Now a pussy's good for maybe six or seven at the most! And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste! Mrs. Lovett, what a charming notion. Well, it does seem a waste...Eminently practical and yet appropriate as always!"

"Is this a song about cannibalism?" Neville interrupted.

"Yes." Bree replied.

"Why can't you sing carols like a normal person?" Neville inquired.

"Can you imagine me being normal?" Bree asked.

"No." Neville replied.

"Besides, Christmas Carols can be equally creepy." Bree stated.

"What do you mean?"

Bree grinned, Neville knew that that was never a good sign.

"He sees you when you're sleeping." She said darkly. "He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake."

"… I see you're point." Neville replied.

* * *

519. Not allowed to sing songs from Sweeny Todd in the hall.

* * *

"Hey Bree." Someone called. Bree turned around and found Harry coming down the hall.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Well Slughorn's Christmas party is coming up and I was wondering if… maybe, er, I mean, are you going with anyone?" he asked.

"No." Bree replied. "George is busy because of all of the Christmas shoppers."

"Oh, uh, so I was thinking, maybe you could go with me, as friends I mean. I already asked Luna, as friend, but she's going with Neville." Harry said quickly.

"For future reference, if you're going to ask someone out, don't let them know you asked someone else first." Bree replied dryly. Harry went red.

"But yeah, I'll go with you." Bree stated.

* * *

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

"Harry, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry and Bree had squeezed in through the door. "Come in, come in, so many people I'd like you to meet! And Miss Smith!"

"Have you heard any new echoes lately?" he asked lowly as he grabbed Harry by the wrist and led him into the part.

"The stars are going out." Bree replied. Slughorn didn't have time to respond because he had already found the first person he wanted to introduce Harry to.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires-and, of course, his friend Sanguini."

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.

Sanguini, how appropriate for a vampire. Probably derived from sanguis, the latin word for blood that also served as a root word of the noun exsanguination: Definition- the process of losing blood. Bree didn't like the way the vampire was eyeing the nearby girls.

"Try anything and I'll cut off your head." Bree hissed. She was close enough that Sanguini was the only one who heard her. He looked surprised.

"Then I'll salt and burn the pieces." Bree added.

"It's a bit odd for a witch to be a hunter." Sanguini stated softly.

"Magi." Bree corrected.

"You're rather young, and inexperienced. Do you really think you could kill me?" the vampire whispered.

Bree activated a very low level ward, just enough for Sanguini to feel uncomfortable.

"Home field advantage. Restrain yourself or die." She replied smirking.

The conversation could not continue any further because Harry had just ended his exchange with Worple and was pulling Bree toward Hermione.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Bree!"

"What's happened to you?" asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare.

"Oh, I've just escaped-I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.

"Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately. "I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole -"

"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revolted.

"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall..."

The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone.

"Hello," Bree said politely to Professor Trelawney.

"Good evening, my dear," said Professor Trelawney, focusing upon Bree with some difficulty. She smelled of cooking sherry again. "I haven't seen you in my classes lately..."

"I stopped taking divination." Bree replied.

Trelawney frowned.

"Yes, I suppose someone with your natural abilities would not require instruction." She said. "Though your insight would be beneficial to the other students."

"I highly doubt that." Bree replied. "Most of the students think I'm making thing up."

"My ancestor, Cassandra was cursed in the same way." Trelawney stated mournfully. "She saw the future but was never believed."

At that moment Hermione slipped away and McLaggen appeared.

"Seen Hermione?" he asked Harry.

"No, sorry," said Harry, and he turned quickly to join in Bree's conversation, forgetting for a split second to whom she was talking.

"Harry Potter!" said Professor Trelawney in deep, vibrant tones, noticing him for the first time.

"Oh, hello," said Harry unenthusiastically.

"My dear boy!" she said in a very carrying whisper. "The rumors! The stories! The Chosen One! Of course, I have known for a very long time... the omens were never good, Harry... but why have you not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance!"

"Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject's most important!" said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney's other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. "But I don't think I've ever known such a natural at Potions!" said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. "Instinctive, you know-like his mother! I've only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill-why even Severus -"

And to Harry's horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward them.

"Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!" hiccuped Slughorn happily. "I was just talking about Harry's exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!"

Trapped, with Slughorn's arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.

"Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all."

"Well, then, it's natural ability!" shouted Slughorn. "You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, Draught of Living Death-never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don't think even you, Severus -"

"Really?" said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of his newfound brilliance at Potions.

"Remind me what other subjects you're taking, Harry?" asked Slughorn .

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology..."

"All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror ," said Snape with the faintest sneer.

"Yeah, well, that's what I'd like to do," said Harry defiantly.

"And a great one you'll make too!" boomed Slughorn.

"I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry," came the unexpected voice of Luna who had just appeared from the crowd alongside Neville. Everybody looked at her. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease."

Neville let out a long suffering sigh.

Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Emerging, from his goblet, coughing, sopping wet but still grinning, he saw something calculated to raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy... being dragged by the ear toward them by Argus Filch.

"Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Malfoy pulled himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

"No, I'm not!" said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling is out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," said Slughorn, waving a hand. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

Filich's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable. Draco looked almost equally unhappy. He had probably been trying to get to the room of requirement. Snape was looking at his godson as though both angry and a little afraid. A split second later, Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly inscrutable again.

"It's nothing, nothing," said Slughorn, waving away Malfoy's thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all..."

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," said Malfoy quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known..."

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," said Snape suddenly.

"Now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccuping again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard-"

"I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," said Snape curtly. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute, then said, "I'll be back in a bit, Bree-er-bathroom."

"Okay then." Bree replied as Harry left.

"We never got a chance to discuss what you said earlier." Slughorn mentioned. "The stars are going out. What does it mean?"

Trelawney perked up. "A prophecy?" she questioned. Bree sighed.

"The meaning is obvious. The stars are going out." Bree stated. She was ignored as Slughorn and Trelawney discussed the deeper meaning behind the words. Bree really wanted to leave the party. There was no use being around people who just didn't get it.

* * *

Most students look forward to leaving Hogwarts and returning home for Christmas. Most students are not Bree Louise Smith. This year Bree had to go to a wedding for a cousin she barely knew. As she sat in the church waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle, Bree muttered things like "Only known each other for six months" and "Who gets married around Christmas" which resulted in serveral jabs to the ribs from her mother.

Finally the red-haired bride was walking down the aisle. She had made it about half-way down the aisle when a golden energy surrounded her and she disappeared. It was at that point that something finally clicked with Bree. The bride's name was Donna Noble. Donna Noble. Donna Noble. DONNA NOBLE.

Well it looked like it wasn't going to be such a boring wedding after all.

* * *

**I know this is shorter than other chapters, but I wanted to be able to put something up.**


	73. Year 6: Worst Christmas Ever!

"No, she didn't run away. We're not talking jitters. She literally vanished. Now, go and check the house and see if she's there." Donna's mother, Sylvia, said into her phone.

Everyone had been in a panic ever since Donna had disappeared.

"Mom, for the last time it had nothing to do with Magic." Bree growled at her mother.

"Then what could have possibly happened?" Bree's mother asked.

"Huon energy particles."

"What?"

"Science. Science happened. Well aliens really."

"Like what happened at Canary Warf?"

"Carnary Warf?"

"Right, you were at school-"

"Cybermen, Daleks, lots of people dead."

"You heard about it where you were?"

"No. And that's really worrying. A global event, and not a trace of it in the wizarding world. That's… that's some extreme isolation." Bree frowned.

"This is wrong, this is really, really wrong. The ministry knows, but why would they….?"

"What are you talking about?" Bree's mother inquired.

"I have to go talk to Aunt Lisa." Bree stood up and went to find Lisa.

* * *

"It's pureblood prejudice really." Lisa explained once they were seated at the reception, which was still happening without the bride.

"They think that anything that happens in the muggle world doesn't matter, so they censor it." She elaborated.

"That's stupid." Bree replied. "If the world explodes then everyone dies, not just muggles."

"I won't be the one to say that wizards have any sort of common sense." Lisa replied. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the people on the dance floor.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Lisa asked, indicating the groom, Lance, who was dancing with some blond.

"His bride is missing and he's dancing with some tart." Lisa stated.

"Speaking of the bride…" Bree said.

"YOU HAD THE RECEPTION WITHOUT ME!"

* * *

The Doctor's tenth incarnation was different from the eleventh one. Skinnier, no bow tie, pinstripe suit, and converse sneakers, also a bit more attractive.

Donna was on the dance floor with Lance, having a good time. The Doctor was on the sidelines. Bree approached him.

"Huon energy particles." She said. The Doctor turned to her.

"What?" he asked.

"Bree Smith, nice to meet you." Bree replied, holding out her hand.

The Doctor stared at her for a moment. "I'm the Doctor. What was the you were saying?" he said, shaking her hand for a brief moment.

"Huon energy particles." Bree repeated.

"Why would you say that? They're ancient, haven't been used for centuries."

"It's one of the things I remember about today. Huon energy particles, giant spiders, and the stars are going out." Bree paused. "Well that last one won't really be relevant for a while."

"Who are you?" The Doctor asked.

"I'm the girl who knew too much." Bree replied.

"But how do you know?" The Doctor inquired. Bree was silent for a moment.

"When I was fourteen, a blue police box appeared in a hallway that had once had a crack in the wall. Three people came out of it. You were one of them, or, you will be. You knew who I was, but I… I didn't think you were real." She explained. She sighed.

"You knocked me out, kidnapped me, and took me to a hospital in New New York, the one with the cats. I would have died if you hadn't. Slowly, but still, psychic worms tend to ill their victims." She stated.

A look of understanding flashed across the Doctors face. "The worm fed you information, that's how you know so much… but why aren't you dead? Without the worm there's nothing to regulate the flow of information… Oh, I am clever. Psychic blocks! Keeps you from overloading! What else can you tell me about what's going on here?"

Bree looed rather amused. "Nothing. You dulled down the memories to stop me from going insane. What I told you is what I am able to access."

"Huon energy particles and giant spiders." The Doctor said. Bree nodded.

"Well that's rubbish!"

"It's not my fault, it's yours." Bree replied.

"My fault! How is it my fault!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"You are the one who dulled the memories." Bree explained.

"That hasn't happened yet!"

"Not for you, but it has happened to me. We're just not meeting in the right order."

"Yeah that does happen sometimes."

"… You know the cameraman recorded everything that happened at the church." Bree said, gesturing across the room.

"Why didn't you say so earlier?"

* * *

"So that's what you meant by Huon energy particles." The Doctor muttered after he had watched the video of Donna's disappearance. "That's impossible, that's... ancient! Huon energy doesn't exist anymore, not for billions of years! So old that... it can't be hidden by a biodamper!"

He ran off and looked outside before running over to Donna. Bree sighed.

"Things are about to get hectic, and me without my umbrella." She said to herself as Donna and the Doctor began to search for a way out of the building. Soon they were shouting for everyone to get away from the Christmas trees.

"Oh, for God's sakes, the man's an idiot! Why? What's a Christmas tree gonna... oh!" Sylvia said as orbs began floating off the tree and hovering over the guests. They started dive bombing everyone and exploding. People started screaming and running for cover. At some point Santa robots entered the room. One of them was holding what appeared to be the controller for a video game.

Bree threw up a barrier. It broke from the force of one of the explosions. Bree was flung to the ground. She hit her head, hard. She was vaguely aware of someone shouting.

"Oi! Santa! Word of advice: if you're attacking a man with a sonic screwdriver... don't let him near the sound system."

A high pitch screeching noise came out of the speakers. The Santas started to vibrate violently until they fell to pieces. The screeching stopped. Bree stumbled over to where the Doctor was examining the remains of one of the robots. Donna was trying to get him to help everyone who was injured.

"He's not that kind of Doctor, Donna." Bree stated.

"Bree! Oh, what's happened to your head?" Donna fussed.

"Fell." Bree replied, touching the back of her head. Her hand came away bloody.

"Doctor, can't you help?" Donna asked. The Doctor turned to Bree.

"Bree, when you hit your head, did it knock anything loose? Can you tell me anything else?" he asked.

"Giant spiders can talk." Bree replied.

"Talking giant spiders." The Doctor said.

"What do giant spiders have to do with anything!" Donna demanded.

"I don't know yet." The Doctor answered. "Are you sure there's nothing else?" he asked Bree.

"The cat's trying to get out, I can't think." Bree murmured.

"What cat?" Donna asked.

"She's disoriented." Ben explained as he walked up. "Come along Bree, there are paramedic's on the way. We'll let them have a look at you."

With one last glance at the Doctor, Bree allowed herself to be led away.

* * *

Later that night, Bree had been cleaned up and her head had been bandaged. She was in the hospital overnight because the Doctors and nurses wanted to keep an eye on her. One of the hospital's residents was shining a light in Bree's eyes.

"Have you ever thought about traveling?" Bree asked the resident whose nametag read M. JONES.

"Not really, been too busy." Jones replied.

"So you've never wanted to go to New York, or see a play in a famous theater?" Bree questioned.

"That would be nice, after I've become a Doctor." Jones answered.

"Hmm."

* * *

Christmas morning in a hospital was as bad as you might think. It was even worse than that for Bree. Something terrible happened in the night. Most people were worried about that fact that something had appeared in the sky and attacked London and that the Thames had been drained. Bree didn't care about either of those things, not after what George had told her.

"There was an ambush last night. Otto's dead and a lot of people were injured, including your Uncle." He explained.

The Doctor explained that Vince was stable, but there was a possibility that he could take a turn for the worst. Bree had never seen her uncle looking so weak. The tubes, the wires, the hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic cleaners, the stark white room, and the constant beeping of the heart monitor all made him seem smaller somehow. Lisa wouldn't leave his side, except for Otto's funeral.

All the arrangements were made quickly. The service was held the day before Bree was supposed to go back to Hogwarts.

Everyone was dressed in the traditional black. Many people had umbrellas to keep the falling snow on of them, Bree wasn't one of them. The snow gathered in her hair and on her eyelashes. She stared blankly at the coffin.

Someone had died. Someone Bree new had died. Someone on their side had died. That wasn't supposed to happen!

"We will avenge this death." Bree heard her Aunt say. "They sent one of ours to the grave, we'll send one hundred of theirs to hell!"

"Hey, are you crying?" someone next to Bree asked. She looked up. It was a young man with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He was skinnier then Vince, but just as tall.

"I'm not crying Leo. It's just melted snow." Bree replied. There was silence for a moment. Bree went back to staring at the coffin. Leo stared to.

"It's scaring isn't it?" he asked.

"What is?" Bree responded. Neither of them looked away from the coffin.

"Realizing that we're not gods, we're not invincible, we can be killed." Leo stated.

Bree was silent.

* * *

After the funeral there was a small gathering at Lisa's. Lisa herself had retired to her office to deal with business. Leo was with her, trying to convince his mother to rest. Everyone else was in the sitting room. Bree sat between Fred and George on a sofa and Percy and Ben each had their own armchair.

"Some holiday, huh?" George asked tiredly.

"Bree gets attacked, Vince and his men get ambushed, all the water in the Thames drains out, and the minister uses me so he can talk to Harry… Yeah, I can't see how it could have been any worse." Percy replied.

"World could have been destroyed." Bree said.

"Okay, other than that, it couldn't have been worse." Percy stated.

"Could have been better." Bree responded.

"That goes without saying." Fred told her.

"I'm serious. The shield charm I put up broke and I know it wasn't that weak when I used it at Hogwarts." She explained.

"I have a theory about that." Said Ben. "When did you first use a shield charm, before or after you formed a bond with Hogwarts?"

"After. Why, does it matter?" Bree asked.

"Yes. I noticed something after I had made a connection with the Slytherin keystone. The spells I used afterward were stronger. After I left Hogwarts for the holiday the strength of my spells had returned to what it had been before." Ben explained.

"I believe that those connected to Hogwarts become stronger as long as they are in the castle. Since you're still learning there are some spells that you haven't been able to practice without the aid of Hogwarts." He continued.

"I thought that was just from bush magic making me more connected to the eatrh." Bree said, bewildered.

"Partly." Ben replied. "If you practiced spells outside of Hogwarts while using bush or old magic to power them then they would be very strong. I imagine that's what you were trying to do when you attempted the silent jelly-legs jinx on Draco. The extra boost from Hogwarts is what caused you to vanish the bones in his legs."

"I'm going to have to talk to the founders' paintings." Bree muttered.

"That would be wise." Ben replied.

* * *

Students returned to Hogwarts by Floo that year as a security precaution.

Hermione had changed the password to get into the common room to "Abstinence." Bree didn't know whether to laugh or roll her eyes.

Bree called a meeting in Ravenclaw's room. Ben explained the boost that Hogwarts gave those tied to her to Luna and Neville while Bree talked to the painting.

"We were not expecting students to be connected to the wards." Rowena explained. "An adult would naturally have already learned most spells and would be able to practice any new ones outside of school. Being tied to the wards makes learning new spells more difficult because you end up relying more on the boost Hogwarts gives you then on your own reserves. Once outside of Hogwarts you would find the spells you learned weaker."

"I already knew that." Bree grumbled. "Any way around it?"

"You could modify the wards so that the power boost is not in effect in a small part of the school. Similar to what the headmaster does when students are taught to apparate." Ravenclaw answered.

"We'll get on that right away." Ben stated.

* * *

Bree didn't follow Harry to his next lesson with Dumbledore. She was tired because Ben was forcing her to relearn every spell she had been taught since she had bonded with the castle. He had been doing the same with Luna and Neville, but he didn't push them as hard.

"They're not next in line after Lisa retired. You are." Ben stated after Bree had asked him why he was being easier on her two friends.

"Only if I want to. I have other options." Bree protested. "Alice's cash for gold thing, hunting, the twins shop."

"You'll need to learn this for hunting as well. Hunters that learn-as-they-go end up dead." Ben replied. "And this past holiday has caused a great upheaval. The disastrous wedding, Vince's injuries, Otto's death." Something unidentifiable flickered in Ben's eyes.

"At any moment your Uncle could take a turn for the worst. Between the curses and the injuries it's a miracle that he's still alive. Once word gets around of the hit we've taken rivals will move in like vultures. Whether you what to be part of the enterprise or not doesn't matter. You are already a target. They'll come after you to get to Lisa and you need to be prepared before you become another casualty." He said.

* * *

Bree heard the bullet points of Harry's meeting through the grapevine, and by that I mean Ben. Dumbledore had revealed that Voldemort had killed his father and grandparents, by way of another memory. After that Dumbledore had showed Harry another memory that had been heavily modified by Horace Slughorn in which young Tom Riddle had asked the potions professor about Horcruxes. Harry had been tasked with getting the real memory from Slughorn.

Harry had asked Slughorn for the memory directly. It hadn't gone well and Slughorn started avoiding Harry.


	74. Year 6: Stop breaking the rules Draco!

"To win a game of chess one must be willing to lose a few pawns." Not-Bree said lazily from her seat next to Red Queen Bree. They were both sitting at a table that had a tea set on it. Red Queen Bree was watching the nearby board. The opposing pieces were dressed in black Death Eaters' robes with Voldemort as their leader. Rookwood's piece had been smashed, as was Otto's. Vince's piece, the king, hovered at the boundary of the board.

"Shut up." Bree muttered from across the table.

"Deep down you know it's true, otherwise I wouldn't have said it." Not-Bree replied.

"Otto wasn't a pawn, he was a person." Bree snarled.

"Then why do you have a chessboard in your head?" Not-Bree asked. "Face it, people are pawns to used and thrown away."

"Not the people I care about!"

"They're the ones most likely to get hurt! Have you seen yourself! Have you seen what you do? You play games. You won the last game and then you killed your opponent!"

"I didn't kill her!"

"You picked the poison! What will you do when you're done playing with Draco? He thinks you're going to kill him, but you're just like him! All bark and no bite. The way things are going, you're going to have to take a life, and you'll be too damn scared to do it."

"Is that so wrong?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but if you don't decide soon you'll be the casualty."

* * *

"It sounds like your mind is trying to warn you." Ben stated after Bree had told him about her latest experience with the Not-Bree.

"About what?" Bree asked.

"You're coping mechanism for dealing with death is no longer working because of your double standard. Instead of seeing you're allies as pawns see them as soldiers fighting with you. When they fall honor their sacrifice and keep fighting on." Ben replied. "As for your enemies, look at them as if they are mad dogs that need to be put down before they kill again."

"Is that what you do?" Bree asked. Ben was silent.

* * *

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-grey clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth-years' first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds.

When Harry and Hermione arrived in the Hall (Ron had come down with Lavender) they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout-the Heads of House-and a small wizard whom Harry took to be the Apparition Instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colourless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Harry wondered whether constant disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished his substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish.

"Good morning," said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of House had called for quiet. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry-Apparition Instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition test in this time-"

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" barked Professor McGonagall.

Everybody looked round. Malfoy had flushed a dull pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he appeared to have been having a whispered argument.

"-by which time, many of you may be ready to take your test," Twycross continued, as though there had been no interruption.

"As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practise. May I emphasise that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you."

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of House moved among the students, marshalling them into position and breaking up arguments.

"Quiet!" and silence fell again. Malfoy turned slowly to face the front.

"Thank you," said Twycross. "Now then..."

He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in from of every student.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three Ds!" said Twycross. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!

"Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination," said Twycross. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

Everybody looked around furtively, to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told.

"Step two," said Twycross, "focus your determination to occupy the visualised space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!"

Harry glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to his left, Ernie Macmillan was contemplating his hoop so hard that his face had turned pink; it looked as though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. Harry bit back a laugh and hastily returned his gaze to his own hoop.

"Step three," called Twycross, "and only when I give the command ... turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation. On my command, now ... one-two-THREE!"

Bree spun on the spot, lost her balance and nearly fell over. She was not the only one. The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; Neville was flat on his back; Ernie Macmillan, on the other hand, had done a kind of pirouetting leap into his hoop and looked momentarily thrilled, until he caught sight of Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at him.

"Never mind, never mind," said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions ..."

The second attempt was no better than the first. The third was just as bad. Not until the fourth did anything exciting happen. There was a horrible screech of pain and everybody looked around, terrified, to see Susan Bones of Hufflepuff wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away where she had started.

The Heads of House converged on her; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal Susan sobbing, reunited with her leg but looking horrified.

"Splinching, or the separation of random body parts," said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, "occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continually upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation ... thus."

Twycross stepped forwards, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms outstretched and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall. 'Remember the three Ds,' he said, "and try again ... one-two-three-"

But an hour later, Susan's Splinching was still the most interesting thing that had happened. Twycross did not seem discouraged. Fastening his cloak at his neck, he merely said, "Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation."

With that, he waved his wand, Vanishing the hoops, and walked out of the Hall accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Talk broke out at once as people began moving towards the Entrance Hall.

* * *

Over the next few weeks Harry became obsessed with finding out what Draco was up to. He examined the map as often as he could, not that it would help him much. The room of requirement wasn't on the map.

* * *

Vince's condition was improving and he was receiving therapy. With Vince recovering and Lisa's due date only weeks away Leo was left to run the family business. They'd already lost territory and customers to rivals.

"Well you were right Ben. They saw weakness and leap on it like a lion on a baby zebra." Bree commented.

"What a lovely picture." Ben replied dryly.

"I try." Bree responded.

* * *

February moved towards March with no change in the weather except that it became windy as well as wet. To general indignation, a sign went up on all common-room noticeboards that the next trip into Hogsmeade had been cancelled for all Hogwarts students. Ron was furious.

"It was on my birthday!" he said, "I was looking forward to that!"

Bree was planning on going anyway to meet the twins since technically she wasn't a Hogwarts student. Her plans were derailed before she had even left the castle. Ron had been poisoned.

You see, Ron had ingested a love potion meant for Harry so Harry took Ron to Slughorn's office for a cure. Once Ron was cured Slughorn offered Harry and Ron some mead. The mead was poisoned. Ron drank first and the effect was almost instantaneous. Harry shoved a bezoar down Ron's throat.

"So, all in all, not one of Ron's better birthdays?" said Fred.

It was evening; the hospital wing was quiet, the windows curtained, the lamps lit. Ron's was the only occupied bed. Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting around him; they had spent all day waiting outside the double doors, trying to see inside whenever somebody went in or out. Madam Pomfrey had only let them enter at eight o'clock. Fred and George had arrived at ten past.

"This isn't how we imagined handing over our present," said George grimly, putting down a large wrapped gift on Ron's bedside cabinet and sitting beside Ginny.

"Yeah, when we pictured the scene, he was conscious," said Fred.

"There we were in Hogsmeade, waiting to surprise him -" said George.

"You were in Hogsmeade?" asked Ginny, looking up.

"We were thinking of buying Zonko's," said Fred gloomily. "A Hogsmeade branch, you know, but a fat lot of good it'll do us if you lot aren't allowed out at weekends to buy our stuff anymore ... But never mind that now."

He drew up a chair beside Harry and looked at Ron's pale face.

"How exactly did it happen, Harry?"

Harry retold the story he had already recounted to Dumbledore, to McGonagall, to Madam Pomfrey, to Hermione, to Ginny, and to Bree.

"... and then I got the bezoar down his throat and his breathing eased up a bit. Slughorn ran for help, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey turned up, and they brought Ron up here. They reckon he'll be all right. Madam Pomfrey says he'll have to stay here a week or so ... keep taking Essence of Rue ..."

"Blimey, it was lucky you thought of a bezoar," said George in a low voice.

"Lucky there was one in the room," said Harry, who kept turning cold at the thought of what would have happened if he had not been able to lay hands on the little stone.

Hermione gave an almost inaudible sniff. She had been exceptionally quiet all day. Having hurtled, white-faced, up to Harry outside the hospital wing and demanded to know what had happened., she had taken almost no part in Harry and Ginny's obsessive discussion about how Ron had been poisoned, but merely stood beside them, clench-jawed and frightened-looking, until at last they had been allowed in to see him.

"Do Mum and Dad know?" Fred asked Ginny.

"They've already seen him, they arrived an hour ago-they're in Dumbledore's office now, but they'll be back soon..."

There was a pause while they all watched Ron mumble a little in his sleep.

"So the poison was in the drink?" said Fred quietly.

"Yes," said Harry at once; he could think of nothing else and was glad for the opportunity to start discussing it again. "Slughorn poured it out -"

"Would he have been able to slip something into Ron's glass without you seeing?"

"Probably," said Harry, "but why would Slughorn want to poison Ron?"

"No idea," said Fred, frowning. "You don't think he could have mixed up the glasses by mistake? Meaning to get you?"

"Why would Slughorn want to poison Harry?" asked Ginny.

"I dunno," said Fred, "but there must be loads of people who'd like to poison Harry, mustn't there? The 'Chosen One' and all that?"

"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater?" said Ginny.

"Anything's possible," said Fred darkly.

"Except that." Bree stated. "He's not a Death Eater."

"He could be under the Imperius Curse," said George.

"It's not that either." Bree.

"How can you know that?" Ginny asked.

"I can tell." Bree replied.

"How?" Ginny pressed.

"I just can." Bree stated. "Anyway the poison could have been in the bottle. It was pure chance the Ron took the first sip."

"So it might have been for Slughorn." Ginny said.

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?" George asked.

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," said Harry. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And..." He thought of the memory Dumbledore had not yet been able to extract from Slughorn. "And maybe Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny reminded him. "So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

"Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," said Hermione, speaking for the first time in hours and sounding as though she had a bad head cold. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have I known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

"Er-my-nee," croaked Ron unexpectedly from between them.

They all fell silent, watching him anxiously, but after muttering incomprehensibly for a moment he merely started snoring.

The dormitory doors flew open, making them all jump: Hagrid came striding toward them, his hair rain-flecked, his bearskin coat flapping behind him, a crossbow in his hand, leaving a trail of muddy dolphin-sized footprints all over the floor.

"Bin in the forest all day!" he panted. "Aragog's worse, I bin readin' to him-didn' get up ter dinner till jus' now an' then Professor Sprout told me abou' Ron! How is he?"

"Not bad," said Harry. "They say he'll be okay."

"No more than six visitors at a time!" said Madam Pomfrey, hurrying out of her office.

"I'll be going then." Bree said, standing up.

"You do'n have to do tha'." Hagrid protested.

"I have business that needs attending to anyway. I'll see you all later." Bree replied. She gave George a quick kiss on the cheek before she left.

* * *

"Draco!" Bree called into the room of requirement. "Draco! I know you're in here! You can't hide from me!" She found Draco underneath an old desk.

"You made another mistake." She told him.

"You're the one who suggested poison!" Draco snapped as he crawled out from under the table.

"So you're saying this is my fault?"Bree asked in a dangerous tone.

Draco immediately realized his mistake. "No." he replied quickly.

"Good. Because I know that if Slughorn has a bottle of high quality mead, he's going to keep it for himself. If I were to pick an unwitting accomplice to deliver the poison to Dumbledore I wouldn't have picked him." Bree stated. "Are you sure you don't want to try an axe and a bear costume?"

"Yes." Draco answered tersely.

Bree shrugged. "Your loss then." She said. "But you know, this is the second time you've broken a rule. It's starting to become a pattern with you. Hogwarts is raging. If you weren't a student you'd be dead but now. You're getting a bit of underserved leniency. I suppose I'll show a bit of leniency as well."

She looked Draco over.

"There's this thing in California called the three strikes law. You commit two crimes and you get normal punishments for them, but on the third strike the hammer really comes down on you. How's that sound Draco, if you break a rule on more time you get a harsher punishment then for your other two transgressions."

"I won't make another mistake." Draco replied.

"You'd better not, because if you do… if you break a rule one more time, things will get messy." Bree stated.

* * *

Ron was unable to play in the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match. He was still in the hospital wing. Harry had no choice but to allow McLaggen to play keeper for the match. It was an abysmal failure. McLaggen was too busy trying to tell the rest of the team what to do to that he forgot to play his own position. The game ended when Harry got hit in the head by a bludger that had been hit by McLaggen after he took one of the beaters bats to correct their form and Harry ended up joining Ron in the hospital wing.

Ginny and Dean had a fight because Dean had thought it had been funny to see Harry get hit by one of his own teammates.

Harry had asked Dobby to follow Draco around and tell him what the Malfoy heir was up to. A week later he had finally figured out that Draco was going to the room of requirement after Dobby told him. He tried to get the room to show him what form it was taking for Draco. He was so consumed with trying to get in that he was late for defense.

"Late again, Potter," said Snape coldly, as Harry hurried into the candlelit classroom. "Ten points from Gryfrindor." Harry scowled at Snape as he flung himself into the seat beside Ron. Half the class were still on their feet, taking out books and organizing their things; he could not be much later than any of them.

"Before we start, I want your Dementor essays," said Snape, waving his wand carelessly, so that twenty-five scrolls of parchment soared into the air and landed in a neat pile on his desk. "And I hope for your sakes they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page-what is it, Mr. Finnigan?"

"Sir," said Seamus, "I've been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the Prophet about an Inferius -"

"No, there wasn't," said Snape in a bored voice.

"But sir, I heard people talking -"

"If you had actually read the article in question, Mr. Finnigan, you would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher."

"But Potter seems to have a lot to say on the subject," said Snape, pointing suddenly at the back of the room, his black eyes fixed on Harry. "Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost."

The whole class looked around at Harry.

"Er-well-ghosts are transparent -" he said.

"Oh, very good," interrupted Snape, his lip curling. "Yes, it in easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent."

Pansy Parkinson let out a high-pitched giggle. Several other people were smirking. Harry took a deep breath and continued calmly, though his insides were boiling, "Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid -"

"A five-year-old could have told us as much," sneered Snape. "The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark wizard's spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet to do the wizard's bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth ... and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent. "

"Oh, great teaching method professor. As a question and when you get the right answer make the student out to be an idiot. Bravo. I except your teacher of the year award will arrive any day now." Bree stated dryly. A few students snickered quietly. Snape looked furious. Bree grinned at him a little too widely, with teeth that were a little too sharp. Snape took out his flask and took a sip.

"Open your books to page two hundred and thirteen," said Snape, "and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse."

* * *

Ron and Lavender's relationship was deteriorating. Lavender was complaining about it a lot, that and how Hermione was trying to steal Ron away from her.

"Shut up!" Bree snapped at her when she was complaining to Parvati. "You're entire "relationship" consists of sucking face." Lavender turned red with anger.

* * *

The day of the apparition test, only three students, other than Bree, showed up for potions. Harry, Ernie, and Draco Malfoy.

"All too young to Apparate just yet?" said Slughorh genially, "Not turned seventeen yet?"

They shook their heads.

"Ah well," said Slughorn cheerily, "as we're so few, we'll do something fun. I want you all to brew me up something amusing!"

"That sounds good, sir," said Ernie sycophantically, rubbing his hands together. Malfoy, on the other hand, did not crack a smile.

"What do you mean, 'something amusing'?" he said irritably.

"Oh, surprise me," said Slughorn airily.

Malfoy opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making with a sulky expression. It could not have been plainer that he thought this lesson was a waste of time. Undoubtedly Malfoy was begrudging the time he could otherwise be spending in the Room of Requirement.

Draco was looking thinner and paler; his skin still had that grayish tinge, probably because he so rarely saw daylight these days. But there was no air of smugness, excitement, or superiority; none of the swagger.

"Well, now, this looks absolutely wonderful," said Slughorn an hour and a half later, clapping his hands together as he stared down into the sunshine yellow contents of Harry's cauldron. "Euphoria, I take it? And what's that I smell? Mmmm... you've added just a sprig of peppermint, haven't you? Unorthodox, but what a stroke of inspiration, Harry, of course, that would tend to counterbalance the occasional side effects of excessive singing and nose-tweaking... I really don't know where you get these brain waves, my boy... unless -"

Harry pushed the Half-Blood Prince's book deeper into his bag with his foot.

"- it's just your mother's genes coming out in you!"

"Oh... yeah, maybe," said Harry, relieved.

Ernie was looking rather grumpy; determined to outshine Harry for once, he had most rashly invented his own potion, which had curdled and formed a kind of purple dumpling at the bottom of his cauldron. Malfoy was already packing up, sour-faced; Slughorn had pronounced his Hiccuping Solution merely "passable." Bree had produced a simple blue solution that gave off multicolored bubbles.

The bell rang and Bree left at once.

* * *

Harry used his Felix Felicis that night so he could get the memory from Slughorn. It worked and he viewed the memory with Dumbledore that evening.

They finally found out what Slughorn had told Voldemort about Horcruxes. A Horcrux was and object that contained a part of a person's soul, made by split your soul and hiding part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if your body is attacked or destroyed, you cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged.

Dumbledore believed that Voldemort had made several Horcruxes. One had been Tom Riddle's diary, one had been the Gaunt family ring. The rest were all conjecture on Dumbledore's part, but there was evidence that proved the a cup that had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff and a locket belonging to Slytherin had become Horcruxes. There were two more Horcruxes, these ones were living beings, Voldemort's snake, Nagini, and, most disturbingly, Harry Potter.

Bree was livid.

"He wants Harry to die! He's been doing this kind grandfather act for years and the whole time he's wanted Harry to die!" Bree fumed. "But we're not going to go along with Dumbledore's little plan, oh no."

"What's your plan?" Neville asked.

"Find the Horcruxes before Dumbledore and destroy them." Bree answered.

"But Harry's one of the Horcruxes. I like Harry, I don't want to destroy him." Luna said.

"We won't." Bree stated. "And no one else will either." She added seeing the look on Ben's face.

"That what do you intend to do?" he inquired.

"Treat it like any other procession and excise the evil spirit, leaving the host intact." Bree replied.


	75. Year 6: Exorcism and Attack

**This story as become more dramatic as it's progressed, but then again so did the books. This chapter starts setting up for the sequel.**

* * *

An exorcism was easier said than done. There were many rituals and chants for expelling demons, but none for removing a fragment of a dark wizard's soul. Bree's solution: modify existing rituasl.

"We'll start with the Rituale Romanum." Ben suggested.

"It's a bit long." Bree replied.

"We're not dealing with a demon that wants to rip out our guts and feed us our entrails. We don't have to rely on the hunter short version." Ben responded.

"The hunter versions are all effective." Bree pointed out.

"On demons. Spirits are different." Ben stated.

"I'll say." Bree scoffed. "Usually it just takes some salt and some fire to get rid of a spirit, but I don't think salting and burning Voldemort is going to work."

"That's why we're doing an exorcism." Ben replied.

"But a lot of the Rituale Romanum isn't applicable." Bree stated.

"The parts about demon's anyway, but can you honestly say that the parts about Satan, the root of all evil, is not applicable?" Ben asked.

"… I'll shut up now." Bree replied.

"Get translating." Ben ordered.

* * *

There are certain phrases people don't like to hear because they always lead to conversations that nobody really wants to have. That's why Bree was reluctant to look up from her book of Latin when she heard Hermione say "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" Bree asked.

"Well, you've been very distant lately, and you haven't been pranking anyone or tormenting any first years. You've been spending more time studying than I do." Hermione replied. Bree stared at her.

"I mean, I know things have been difficult with your uncle and all, but he is recovering and" Bree cut Hermione off.

"And Aunt Lisa gave birth to a baby girl." She said.

"That's wonderful!" Hermione said brightly.

"No," Bree replied. "it really isn't." Hermione looked confused.

"Uncle Vince is recovering, Aunt Lisa is taking care of the baby, and Leo is running the family business. Competitors have sniffed out the weaknesses like sharks sniff out blood." Bree stood up and got in Hermione's face. "Do you know what happens when sharks smells blood in the water? I'll tell you. Feeding frenzy. So I'm sorry if I no longer fit into your world view, but I have a lot to prepare for and God knows how long to prepare for it!"

Hermione left Bree alone after that.

* * *

Luna and Neville offered what help they could in preparing for the exorcism. Soon everything was ready. All they needed was Harry.

"Harry, Ben and I have worked up a solution to one of your problems." Bree said after she had gotten Harry alone in the hall.

"What problem?" Harry asked.

"The one that involves a piece of snake faces soul residing inside of you." Bree replied.

"Who told you?" Harry demanded furiously. "I only told"

"Sirius." Bree interjected. "Who told Leo, who told Ben, who told me, and Luna, and Neville."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"We have a club. I would have told them what Ben told me anyway so it was easier just to have Ben tell us all at once." Bree answered.

"I meant, why is Ben telling you anything?" Harry questioned.

"Heir to the throne gets special privileges." Bree explained.

"What?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Aunt Lisa wants me to take over the business when she retires. She lets me know things so I can learn how to problem solve, and your problem has been solved." Bree replied.

"How? How have you solved it? Because the only way to get a piece of someone's soul out of a Horcrux is to destroy it and I don't really feel like dying." Harry responded angrily.

"No one needs to die for this. There's a way to get rid of spirits that muggles have been using for… well, for as long as there have been demons and evil spirits. It gets a lot more use back in America then it does here, but America doesn't have the ancient wards that weakens spirits and repels demons. Cases do pop up were the wards are weak or nonexistent and when things get bad, when evil stalks their homes and ruins their lives, muggle accept that the supernatural exists and then they call an exorcist." Bree explained.

"You want to exercise me?" Harry asked, confused.

Bree sighed. "No, I want to excise the evil from your body in a way that won't kill you." She said.

Harry looked worried. "You really think it will work?" he inquired.

"Yes." Bree replied with all of the confidence she could muster. "But like all exorcisms it will probably be somewhat dangerous and require a whole lot of willpower."

* * *

"Are restraints really necessary?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Ben replied as he tightened aforementioned restraints on the chair Harry was sitting in. There was a ring of salt around the chair and Bree was standing in her own salt ring a few feet away. Religious symbols from around the world were painted on the walls and the floor.

"If the spirit fragment fights back it could possess you and bite our faces off." Bree explained.

"Has that happened before?" Harry inquired.

"Yes." Ben answered.

"With demonic possessions." Bree elaborated.

"Voldemort isn't a demon." Harry pointed out.

"We're not taking any chances." Ben stated.

"What about the salt rings?" Harry inquired.

"Spirits can't cross a line of salt." Ben explained before turning to Bree.

"I'll stay on guard. You read the incantation and don't stop until it's over. No matter what happens you don't stop reading until it's all over, even if you have to read it over and again. Don't stop until it's done." He ordered. "Now begin."

Bree hesitated for a moment, an exorcism performed by a magi was different than one performed by a muggle. Bree was going to be channeling energy in the symbols while she read. Ben would be doing the same thing while he kept the spirit from attacking. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis malus potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

The symbols began to glow.

"Ergo spiritus maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare."

Harry began to thrash. Bree's voice became stronger as she read.

"Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt."

Harry's scar began to bleed. His eyes turned red with snake-like pupils_. _

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine."

"_You can't save him, He's mine."_

"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos."

Harry thrashed and the restraints began to break. Ben grabbed Harry and held him down.

"Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos."

"_You can't get rid of me unless you kill him."_

"Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus deus. Gloria patri."

Bree began reading the next incantation.

_"Regna terrae, cantate Deo."_

The exorcism lasted for an hour before the wraithlike form of Voldemort was driven out. Ben let go of Harry and undid the remaining restraints and helped Harry up. He patted Bree on the shoulder as he led Harry out. Bree collapsed to her knees. Ben came back a few minutes later and helped her up.

"It was like it had bound itself to Harry's soul." She muttered.

"I know." Ben replied. "You did great."

* * *

Katie had come back, which was good news for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, espeacilly since Dean and Ginny had broken up and weren't speaking to each other. The only person who was not particularly pleased to see Katie Bell back at school was Dean Thomas, because he would no longer be required to fill her place as Chaser. He took the blow stoically enough when Harry told him, merely grunting and shrugging.

Life seemed to continue on normally. There was excitement and nervousness for the upcoming final match of the season. And then Harry went and ruined everything.

He used a spell from the Half-Blood Prince's book, nearly killing Draco in the process. Harry had never used the spell before and had no idea what it did. Turned out it was a powerful cutting curse. Harry was banned from his team's final game. He was damn lucky the team he had picked out was good enough to win without him. When he came back from his detention with Snape he found a celebration going on in the common room. Ginny ran up and hugged harry.

* * *

The fact that Harry Potter was going out with Ginny Weasley seemed to interest a great number of people, most of them girls, yet Harry found himself newly and happily impervious to gossip over the next few weeks. After all, it made a very nice change to be talked about because of something that was making him happier than he could remember being for a very long time, rather than because he had been involved in horrific scenes of Dark magic.

Harry had hidden the Half-Blood Princes book and was now doing poorly in potions, though Slughorn, who approved of Ginny, had jocularly attributed this to Harry being lovesick. Meanwhile, Hermione had become convinced that the Half-Blood Prince was a former Hogwarts student named Eileen Prince.

Bree had been working harder than ever to learn everything that she needed to learn. As June dragged on Bree dropped the rest of her classes and spent her days learning from Ben. She had developed some muscles from the training. She learned how to fight, how to run and how to recognize when either action was needed. Bree and Ben both hoped that Bree wouldn't need the training for a long time and that she would more time to learn. That hope grew as the family business slowly began to reclaim territory, customers, and, most importantly, their reputation, but they still had ways to go. And then everything went sideways.

It was June, they really should have been expecting something to happen. Something always went wrong in June. The first sign that something was wrong was when the wards registered extra people in the castle, then there was Harry and Dumbledore's sudden departure, and finally there was the sudden appearance of Death Eaters.

"Every god damn June!" Bree shouted, startling everyone in the common room. Something always has to happen in June."

"What are you talking about?" Seamus asked, staring at Bree as if she had lost her mind.

"Death Eaters." Bree replied shortly as she began leaving of the common room. "In the castle." She left the common room, sealing the entrance behind her.

Hogwarts urged Bree along, leading to where Bill Weasley was losing a battle to Fenrir Greyback. Bree paused just long enough to note that Greyback liked to use his teeth even when he wasn't transformed.

"Restrain." Bree said. Greyback was immediately thrown against a wall.

"You know European werewolves are kind of pathetic compared to American werewolves." She said as she pulled a towel out of one of the bigger on the inside pockets in her boots. There was blood pouring out of Bill's face.

"It's not your fault, the wards keep you weak." She pressed the towel up against Bill's wounds.

"American werewolves transform three nights of the month and eat the heart out of their victims. There never remember transforming so most don't even know what they are." She was talking just to distract herself from all the blood and the sounds of chaos nearby.

"Makes them even more dangerous that way, since a lot of them are suburbanites trying to live normal lives. Then the blackouts start and the hunters come. No more normal life. No more life at all." She had Bill hold the towel as she helped him to his feet and led him to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey began fussing over Bill and Bree quickly slipped out. She returned to where she had left Greyback and drew on his face with a sharpie. A Death Eater came up behind her, wand drawn.

"Av-" the Death Eater let out a rasping sound and dropped dead. Bree turned around.

"Hi Ben." She said.

"I'm surprised that you haven't banished all of the Death Eaters from Hogwarts." Ben stated. Bree was the only one who could banish anyone from Hogwarts. It was because of the way the wards were divided. Bree had the restraint and banishment wards, Ben had the killing wards, Luna had the healing wards, and Neville had the attack wards. Shield wards were divided between the four of them.

"This is Draco's last attempt at killing Dumbledore, I'd really like it to succeed." Bree replied.

"Fair enough." Ben replied. "Let's go make sure he's the only casualty."

Bree turned to face Greyback. "Get out and stay out." She said. Greyback was whisked out of the castle, across the grounds, and out the front gate. And soon as he was released he tried to get back in. He snarled as the wards rebuffed him. He would not stand for such humiliation.

* * *

Harry and Dumbledore reappeared, coming in from the air and landing on the top floor of the astronomy tower. Draco was there as well.

"Hello Professor, some night huh?" Bree said as she approached Profeessor McGonagall who was looking a little baffled since her opponent was plastered to the wall.

"Miss Smith! You should be in your common room where it's safe." McGonagall reprimanded.

"I'm safe as long as I'm at Hogwarts. I'm stronger here than anywhere else. That'll handicap me a bit, once I'm fighting in the real world, but here I am a god." Bree replied. "Now if our guest would be so kind as to get out and stay out."

The Death Eater, Amycus Carrow, was dragged out of the castle and joined Greyback.

"Did that to Umbridge last year, but I had to lift her banishment before the curse breakers discovered the ancient wards. Amycus Carrow won't be getting back unless I decide to let him in." Bree explained.

"How is this possible?" McGonagall asked.

"The founders' legacy is more than just the houses that bear there name, but it was lost to time and fools. I found it, woke it up and let others in on the secret." Bree explained.

"What secret?" McGonagall inquired.

"I don't trust you enough to let you in on that one, so here's another instead. Slytherin's monster was meant to be a guardian for the school. His reason for not wanting to allow muggleborns in isn't because of hatred of scorn, it was because of fear. Muggles are very good at destroying what scares them. When the movie Jaws came out the shark population plummeted. During the founders' days witches were the sharks." Bree told the Professor. "If you let modern day muggles know what kind of danger there in than your Dark Lord problem would be cleared right."

And with that, Bree walked off to join the chaos.

* * *

A great shudder ran through Hogwarts, there was suddenly an open position in the staff. Dumbledore was dead. Bree fought back a grin. The remaining Death Eaters, including Draco and Snape, were fleeing the castle. Bree meandered up to the infirmary where Luna was helping Madam Pomfrey by using the healing wards on Bill. He would still have scars though, since his wounds, which had been inflicted by a werewolf, were cursed even though it wasn't the full moon.

Madam Promfrey caught sight of the dried blood on Bree's hands and began to fuss.

"It's not my blood." Bree stated quickly.

"Then whose?" Madam Promfrey asked. Bree looked over at the bed were the oldest of the seven Weasley children was lying unmoving.

"Bill's." she said. The school's nurse looked a bit startled.

"Ah, right, you did bring him in." she muttered. More people began to arrive. Neville, Ben, Hermione, Ron, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Ginny and Harry.

Hermione ran to Harry and hugged him; Remus moved forward too, looking anxious.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"I'm fine... how's Bill?"

Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment.

"Can't you fix them with a charm or something?" Harry asked the matron.

"No charm will work on these, the … healing wards that Miiss Lovegood has been using helped somewhat, but there is no cure for werewolf bites." Madam Pomfrey replied.

"But he wasn't bitten at the full moon," said Ron, who was gazing down into his brother's face as though he could somehow force him to mend just by staring. "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a-a real-?"

He looked uncertainly at Remus.

"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," Remus said, "but that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and-and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on."

"Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though," Ron said. "Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave him in this state-"

"Ron-Dumbledore's dead," said Ginny.

"No!" Remus looked wildly from Ginny to Harry, as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did nor, Remus collapsed into a chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face. "How did he die?" whispered Tonks. "How did it happen?"

"Snape killed him," said Harry. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was... Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realized it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilized me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak-and then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him-"

Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth and Ron groaned. Luna's mouth trembled.

"-more Death Eaters arrived-and then Snape-and Snape did it. The Avada Kedavra." Harry couldn't go on.

"I knew it!" Sirius declared vindictively. "I knew Snivellus couldn't be trusted!"

"And we're all very happy for you," Bree replied sardonically. Sirius went quiet. Everyone in the room remained silent. They heard something somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing a stricken lament of terrible beauty.

Everyone stayed quiet and listened. A long time later that the hospital door opened again and Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Like all the rest, she bore marks of the recent battle: there were grazes on her face and her robes were ripped.

"Molly and Arthur are on their way," she said, and the spell of the music was broken: everyone roused themselves as though coming out of trances, turning again to look at Bill, or else to rub their own eyes, shake their heads. "Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when he-when it happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some-"

"Snape killed Dumbledore," said Harry.

She stared at him for a moment, then swayed alarmingly; Madam Pomfrey, who seemed to have pulled herself together, ran forward, conjuring a chair from thin air, which she pushed under McGonagall.

"Snape," repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. "We all wondered... but he trusted... always... Snape... I can't believe it..."

"Snape was a highly accomplished Occlumens," said Remus, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "We always knew that."

"But Dumbledore swore he was on our side!" whispered Tonks. "I always thought Dumbledore must know something about Snape that we didn't..." .

"He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape," muttered Professor McGonagall, now dabbing at the corners of her leaking eyes with a tartan-edged handkerchief. "I mean... with Snape's history ... of course people were bound to wonder... but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine... wouldn't hear a word against him!"

"I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him," said Tonks.

"I know," said Harry, and they all turned to look at him. "Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn't realized what he was doing, he was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead."

They all stared at him.

"And Dumbledore believed that?" Sirius snarled. "Dumbledore believed Snivellus was sorry James was dead? He hated James!"

"And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn either," said Harry, "because she was Muggle-born... 'Mudblood,' he called her..."

Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.

"This is all my fault," said Professor McGonagall suddenly. She looked disoriented, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. "My fault. I sent Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I hadn't alerted Snape to what was going on, he might never have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I don't think he knew they were there before Filius told him, I don't think he knew they were coming."

"It isn't your fault, Minerva," said Lupin firmly. "We all wanted more help, we were glad to think Snape was on his way..."

"So when he arrived at the fight, he joined in on the Death Eaters' side?" asked Harry. And so began the story of what had happened. How Luna and Neville had used strange spells, how Greyback was suddenly no longer a part of the battle, how Bree had used some ancient secret to banish one of the Carrows from Hogwarts, and how they had let Snape pass when he came down from the tower, not knowing what he had done.

The doors of the hospital wing burst open, making them all jump: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were striding up the ward, Fleur just behind them, her beautiful face terrified.

"Molly-Arthur-" said Professor McGonagall, jumping up and hurrying to greet them. "I am so sorry-"

"Bill," whispered Mrs. Weasley, darting past Professor McGonagall as she caught sight of Bill's mangled face. "Oh, Bill!"

Remus and Tonks had got up hastily and retreated so that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could get nearer to the bed. Mrs. Weasley bent over her son and pressed her lips to his bloody forehead.

"You said Greyback attacked him?" Mr. Weasley asked Professor McGonagall distractedly. "But he hadn't transformed? So what does that mean? What will happen to Bill?"

"We don't yet know," said Professor McGonagall, looking helplessly at Remus.

"There will probably be some contamination, Arthur," said Remus. "It is an odd case, possibly unique... we don't know what his behavior might be like when he awakens..."

Mrs. Weasley took the nasty-smelling ointment from Madam Pomfrey and began dabbing at Bill's wounds.

"And Dumbledore ..." said Mr. Weasley. "Minerva, is it true ... is he really...?"

As Professor McGonagall nodded, Harry felt Ginny move beside him and looked at her. Her slightly narrowed eyes were fixed upon Fleur, who was gazing down at Bill with a frozen expression on her face.

"Dumbledore gone," whispered Mr. Weasley, but Mrs. Weasley had eyes only for her eldest son; she began to sob, tears falling onto Bill's mutilated face.

"Of course, it doesn't matter how he looks... it's not r-really important... but he was a very handsome little b-bo... always very handsome... and he was g-going to be married!"

"And what do you mean by zat?" said Fleur suddenly and loudly. "What do you mean, 'he was going to be married?'"

Mrs. Weasley raised her tear-stained face, looking startled. "Well-only that-"

"You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" demanded Fleur. "You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?"

"No, that's not what I-"

"Because 'e will!" said Fleur, drawing herself up to her full height and throwing back her long mane of silver hair. "It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!"

"Well, yes, I'm sure," said Mrs. Weasley, "but I thought perhaps-given how-how he-"

"You thought I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps, you hoped?" said Fleur, her nostrils flaring. "What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave! And I shall do zat!" she added fiercely, pushing Mrs. Weasley aside and snatching the ointment from her.

Mrs. Weasley fell back against her husband and watched Fleur mopping up Bill's wounds with a most curious expression upon her face. Nobody said anything; Harry did not dare move. Like everybody else, he was waiting for the explosion.

"Our Great-Auntie Muriel," said Mrs. Weasley after a long pause, "has a very beautiful tiara-goblin-made-which I am sure I could persuade her to lend you for the wedding. She is very fond of Bill, you know, and it would look lovely with your hair."

"Thank you," said Fleur stiffly. "I am sure zat will be lovely."

And then both women were crying and hugging each other. Ron and Harry looked stunned and Ginny and Hermione were exchanging startled looks.

"You see!" said a strained voice. Tonks was glaring at Remus. "She still wants to marry him, even though he's been bitten! She doesn't care!"

"It's different," said Remus, barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense. "Bill will not be a full werewolf. The cases are completely-"

"But I don't care either, I don't care!" said Tonks, seizing the front of Remus's robes and shaking them. "I've told you a million times..."

"And I've told you a million times," said Remus, refusing to meet her eyes, staring at the floor, "that I am too old for you, too poor... too dangerous..."

"I've said all along you're taking a ridiculous line on this, Remus," said Mrs. Weasley over Fleur's shoulder as she patted her on the back.

"I am not being ridiculous," said Lupin steadily. "Tonks deserves somebody young and whole."

"But she wants you," said Mr. Weasley, with a small smile. "And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so."

He gestured sadly at his son, lying between them.

"This is... not the moment to discuss it," said Lupin, avoiding everybody's eyes as he looked around distractedly. "Dumbledore is dead. ..."

"Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world," said Professor McGonagall curtly.

"I get to be best man." Sirius declared just as the hospital doors opened again and Hagrid walked in.

"I've... I've done it, Professor," he choked. "M-moved him. Professor Sprout's got the kids back in bed. Professor Flitwick's lyin down, but he says he'll be all righ' in a jiffy, an' Professor Slughorn says the Ministry's bin informed."

"Thank you, Hagrid," said Professor McGonagall, standing up at once and turning to look at the group around Bill's bed. "I shall have to see the Ministry when they get here. Hagrid, please tell the Heads of Houses-Slughorn can represent Slytherin- that I want to see them in my office forthwith. I would like you to join us too."

As Hagrid nodded, turned, and shuffled out of the room again, she looked down at Harry. "Before I meet them I would like a quick word with you, Harry. If you'll come with me..."

Harry stood up, murmured "See you in a bit" and followed Professor McGonagall, as did Sirius. The ward was silent for a moment.

"Bree," Hermione spoke up. "What was the ancient secret you used to banish Amycus Carrow?"

* * *

**My birthday is on the twenty-fifth. I will be twenty. Reviews for any of my stories would make great birthday gifts.**


	76. At the end of the story it began again

Bree sighed and looked at Hermione for a long moment before she answered.

"Ancient security wards." She replied. "I accidentally activated some of them back in our fifth year. They'd been dormant for hundreds of years before I stumbled across them. The wards are bound to the castle but they have to be tied to a person so that they can be used properly."

"And you tied them all to yourself." Ginny stated.

"One fourth of them. The wards are supposed to be divided between four people. If any one person were to activate all of them they would die." Bree said.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Mrs. Weasley demanded. "You could have gotten all of the wards activated by Dumbledore and some of the Professors."

"I did tell people. All of the wards are active at the moment. I'm in charge of all the restraining and banishing wards but detection wards are shared." Bree answered.

"Who did you tell and what do you mean by detection wards?" the ever curious Hermione blurted out.

"I told Ben first, and then I waited and found people I could trust to help with the wards." Breereplied.

"But who were they?" Hermione pressed. Bree refused to speak.

Luna spoke up. "I was one of them." She said. "I have the healing wards and half of the shield wards."

"I've got attack wards and the other half of the shield wards." Neville stated.

"What wards does Professor Grimsley have?" Mrs. Weasler asked.

"Ben was the last one to be tied to any wards." Bree answered.

"I have all of the killing wards." Ben stated. Mrs. Weasley went pale.

"K-killing?" she stuttered.

"Well I couldn't let teenagers have control over something like that." Ben replied.

"Yes well, you shouldn't have let them have control over any of the wards. You should have told Dumbledore so that responsible adults handle them." Mrs. Weasley replied.

"And I suppose I should have pledged my undying allegiance and followed him blindly to my death as your family seems intent on doing." Ben responded dryly.

Mrs. Weasley went red with anger. "Dumbledore was a great man." She said, trying to keep her voice down, they were in the hospital wing after all.

"That doesn't make him a good man." Bree interjected. "He made decisions that got people hurt, that got them killed. He gave the members of his Order dangerous missions without proper training. There's nothing wrong with fighting for you beliefs but you need to know how to fight if you want to be effective. The Order isn't effective. It was never effective. Dumbledore just took unclaimed credit. He defeated Grindlewald, I'll give him that, but you wizards always forget the soldiers that fought and bleed and died fighting long before Dumbledore ever got there. He was such a "great wizard" why couldn't he have stopped the war before all of those young men left home and came back forever changed? Why couldn't he have acted before all of those families said goodbye to their brothers, sons, fathers, and husbands and never saw them return?"

Mrs. Weasley went silent.

* * *

"That was very clever of you." Hermione said later in the common room.

"What do you mean?" Bree asked.

"Making everyone forget about the wards by distracting them." Hermione replied.

Bree smirked. "I just gave them my honest opinion of Dumbledore, it's not my fault that no one wanted to talk anymore after that." She said.

"You've changed." Hermione whispered, remembering the carefree first year that would cause chaos for the sake fun and how that first year was nothing like the malicious figure in front of her.

"That's the way of all things. Nothing stays the same. Nothing can stay the same. You've changed too Hermione, so has everyone else." Bree responded.

"Not as much as you have." Hermione muttered.

"Change is a good thing." Bree stated.

"Not when it makes you hide things from your friends." Hermione protested.

Bree rolled her eyes. "I haven't hidden anything from my friends." She said. "You and I aren't friends."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"I could never be friends with someone like you. You've always have this wall of books and logic around you and a blind faith in authority along with a refusal to accept that impossible things you've never heard of might exist, so why would I tell you anything when you would refuse to believe it?" Bree continued.

And once again the conversation was diverted. The wards weren't brought and Bree never had to say that she could have saved Dumbledore's life if she had wanted to, she just hadn't wanted to.

* * *

All lessons were suspended, all examinations postponed. Some students were hurried away from Hogwarts by their parents over the next couple of days-the Patil twins were gone before breakfast on the morning following Dumbledore's death and Zacharias Smith was escorted from the castle by his haughty-looking father. Seamus Finnigan, on the other hand, refused point-blank to accompany his mother home; they had a shouting match in the Entrance Hall which was resolved when she agreed that he could remain behind for the funeral. She had difficulty in finding a bed in Hogsmeade for wizards and witches were pouring into the village, preparing to pay their last respects to Dumbledore.

Bree had wanted to leave because she saw no point in staying. Lisa had insisted on "keeping up appearances" and Bree was forced to stay for the funeral.

Black was the color of choice for the event and Bree hated being unable to pair it with some nice red.

A vast array of people from many walks of life were in attendance. The Minister of Magic, Percy, members of the Order of the Phoenix: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, her hair miraculously returned to vividest pink, Remus Lupin, with whom she seemed to be holding hands, Sirius Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill supported by Fleur and followed by Fred and George, who were wearing jackets of black dragonskin. Then there was Madame Maxime, who took up two-and-a-half chairs on her own, Tom, the landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, the hairy bass player from the wizarding group the Weird bisters, Ernie Prang, driver of the Knight Bus, Madam Malkin, of the robe shop in Diagon Alley, the barman of the Hog's Head and the witch who pushed the trolley on the Hogwarts Express. The castle ghosts were there too, barely visible in the bright sunlight, discernible only when they moved, shimmering insubstantially in the gleaming air.

Even with so many people in present two stood out more than anyone else: a tall pale sinned woman with long layered black hair and a blond haired man with green eyes and the thickest eyebrows Bree had ever seen. Bree got the strangest vibe from them; oddly enough no one else seemed to notice..

Hagrid was walking slowly up the aisle between the chairs. He was crying quite silently, his face gleaming with tears, and in his arms, wrapped in purple velvet spangled with golden stars, was Dumbledore's body.

Hagrid placed the body carefully upon a table. Now he retreated down the aisle, blowing his nose with loud trumpeting noises that drew scandalised looks from some, including. Bree glanced at the back row to which Hagrid was heading and saw, dressed in a jacket and trousers each the size of a small marquee, the giant Grawp, his great ugly boulder-like head bowed, docile, almost human. Hagrid sat down next to his half-brother and Grawp patted Hagrid hard on the head, so that his chair legs sank into the ground. Harry had a wonderful momentary urge to laugh. But then the music stopped and he turned to face the front again.

A little tufty-haired man in plain black robes had got to his feet and stood now in front of Dumbledore's body. Bree didn't care about what the man was saying. Odd words floated over her.. "Nobility of spirit" ... "intellectual contribution" ... "greatness of heart" Bree had the urge to burst out laughing, to pull out her wand and disrupt the whole thing, Lisa gave her a hard look and Bree remained sitting quietly.

The little man in black had stopped speaking at last and resumed his seat. Harry waited for somebody else to get to their feet; he expected speeches, probably from the Minister, but nobody moved.

Then several people screamed. Bright, white flames had erupted around Dumbledore's body and the table upon which it lay: higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiralled into the air and made strange shapes: in the next second the fire had vanished. In its place was a white marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the table on which he had rested.

There were a few more cries of shock as a shower of arrows soared through the air, but they fell far short of the crowd. It was the centaurs' tribute.

As soon as the funeral was over Bree hurried back to the castle to change. Buckled black boots with sensible heels so that they were easier to run in, dark jeans, a red shirt, sliver skull and crossbones earrings, fishnet gloves, gold skull ring, chain bracelet, perception filter disguised as pyramid studded leather bracelet, pyramid studded belt, studded leather choker, and her favorite black cadet cap.

"Perfect." Bree stated as she looked at herself in the mirror. All of her things had been packed the day before. She would be leaving with Lisa instead of taking the train with the rest of the students. She wouldn't be going home, she couldn't. The house had been emptied and put up for sale. Lisa had moved Bree's parents back to America where they would be safe from the upcoming war. Bree hadn't even been able to say goodbye, but it was better that they were out of the way, one less thing to worry about.

There was so much to do. Meet the new baby, turn seventeen and finally be able to use magic outside of school, go to Bill and Fleur's wedding, watch out for anything more dangerous than Voldemort, find Horcruxes and destroy them, find out if cousin Donna was traveling with the Doctor yet, kill Voldemort, kill Death Eaters, keep an eye what happens at Hogwarts, kill rival mafias, and get some new allies.

Yeah, this was going to take a while.

* * *

**Last chapter of this story. Sequel is in the works, I'll let you all know when it's up. Here's some quotes I intend to use in it in no particular order.**

"You shouldn't have done that."

"It's not a nervous breakdown. I'm having a calm, rational breakdown based on an understanding of how we're all going to die horribly!"

"Cousin Rufus misunderstood the meaning of "strip mall" again, let's go bail him out."

"Why can't creatures whose only weakness is fire be a little more flammable?"

"John Winchester is dead."

"We're robbing him, go ahead and take a candy bar. Take all the candy bars, hell, throw in some potato chips, just be quick about it."

"Stop mumbling exorcisms under your breathe. They're children, not demons."


	77. The Sequel

**Bree's World Tour, the sequel to this story is now up. Here's a tidbit.**

"THE STARS ARE GOING OUT" MORE DEATHS TO COME? Read the headline of the Daily Prophet. Bree skimmed the article. Apparently Slughorn had taken her statement to mean that "the wizarding world's brightest stars" were in danger and told the reporters as much.

Why couldn't anyone look at the sky and go "Oh yeah, the stars ARE going out!"? But no, they had to look for some nonexistent deeper meaning. Idiots.

"They're getting more daring." Lisa said to Bree as they sat in her office. "They'll have the government under their control soon, and once that happens things will become problematic."

"Problematic?" Bree echoed.

"Other nations noticing, Voldemort deciding to take over other countries, all-out war, that sort of thing." Lisa explained offhandedly.

"Oh, is that all?" Bree replied sarcastically. Lisa ignored her.

"My forces are divided between stopping Vodemort and reclaiming lost business from our competitors." she explained. "We're having difficulty doing both with our available manpower, we need to recruit some more allies, that's where you come in.

"Me?" Bree questioned.

"You're going to be our new recruiter." Lisa stated.


End file.
